Philly Jam
by ktface3
Summary: An AU set in Philadelphia in which Pam moves into Jim's apartment building. Now finally complete!
1. Moving Day

_Fancy New Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_A/N: who's ready for another multi-chapter AU adventure? I know I am! I'm extremely excited about this endeavor; I don't want to make any broad generalizations in the first chapter here, but I think this is going to be my longest (and most challenging) story to date! I won't be able to make it through without your support, so when you get down to the bottom, make sure to leave me a review telling me what you think. And most importantly, enjoy!!_

_I am not worthy of EmilyHalpert's ridiculous beta skills. They are extra-awesome._

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It was an unusually warm spring day in Philadelphia's Central City neighborhood, and Pam Beesly couldn't be happier. She was finally moving out of her old neighborhood to start her new life in her own apartment. As she pulled into the parking lot behind the red brick rowhouse, her moving van right behind her, she let out a satisfied sigh.

She had been dreaming about living in Rittenhouse Square ever since she was a little girl and her parents would take her and her older sisters to the beautiful neighborhood park. As they drove past block after block of terraced houses, Pam imagined what it would be like to live in them, right in the heart of the city. Now, her dream was becoming a reality, and she had reached it all on her own.

Pam worked in the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, as their graphic designer and website manager. In addition to being responsible for the upkeep of the academy's website, she was also in charge of putting together the literature on different exhibitions and events, and always did exceptional work. Ryan, her boss, was so impressed by her creations that he had given her a hefty raise last month, which helped her afford the rent she would be paying for her new place on Spruce Street.

She got out of her car and watched for a moment as her boyfriend pulled the moving van in as close as he could to the back door. "That's good, Roy!" Pam shouted from behind him, and so he stuck a thumbs-up out the window and cut the engine. He and Darryl, a friend of his from work, were going to do all the heavy lifting for her. Now all she had to do was get the key.

She rang the bell for the super, and was a little startled when he responded over the intercom, "State your business."

"Um, I'm Pam Beesly. I'm moving in to apartment 3B?"

There was a sigh over the intercom and then the voice replied, "My apartment is downstairs in the basement. Let me get your key—" He buzzed her in and she went inside, making sure to keep the door propped open for Roy and Darryl to start bringing in boxes, and then headed down the stairs.

She softly knocked on the door and a tall man with glasses and a scowling expression answered the door. "Pam Beesly?"

"Yes?"

"Let's see some ID."

"Are you kidding?"

He shook his head and Pam let out an exasperated sigh, digging through her purse to find her wallet. Once she showed him her driver's license, his suspicious of her seemed to diminish.

His face grew softer, "Hello, I am Dwight K. Schrute, the superintendent. Here are your keys—" He handed her two keys, "This one is for the outside and that one is for your apartment. Please follow me."

He led her up the stairs, only stopping for a moment to close the propped-open door, which she could hear him grumbling angrily about. They reached the top floor and Pam smiled when she only saw one door on each side of the hall. It meant her apartment was enormous—prime real estate in this neighborhood—and it was all hers.

"All right, 3B…" she followed him to the door and he stood guard as she unlocked it for the first time. She opened the door and gazed upon the most beautiful apartment she had ever seen: hardwood floors, a newly renovated kitchen with stainless steel appliances, and amazing skylights up above them. She thought she'd died and gone to heaven.

"Now, here is a write-up directly from the landlord, which tells you how to set up utility payments: cable, electricity, gas, and water. If your apartment needs maintenance, I am always on call—my home phone number, my cell number, my pager number, and my fax number are at the bottom there…" He glared at her sternly, as if trying to judge what kind of tenant she'd be, "And just so you know, I am obligated to call the proper authorities if there is any shenanigans or illegal activity going on. This is a safe neighborhood, and it's my duty to see it stays that way. Is this understood?"

Pam felt like she was being reprimanded by a schoolteacher, but even though she didn't like it, she didn't call him out on it. "Yes sir," she replied, not wanting to get on the super's bad side on her first day in the building. Dwight nodded in response and left her to her new apartment. She was just running her fingers over the marble kitchen countertops when her cell phone rang. "Hey babe… Yeah, I left the door open for you, but the super closed it… I'll be right there."

... … …

What a day. He couldn't believe the amount of 3-pointers Iguodala scored after their interview. At this rate, they'd be in the playoffs in a couple months, and had a good chance of winning at that.

When Jim Halpert started out as a staff writer for the sports section of _The Philadelphia Inquirer_, he never expected to rise to fame so quickly. Or rather, he expected to be commended for winning prizes for his articles, not for being everyone's good luck charm. It all started when Brett Myers pitched a perfect game after an interview with him, and Philly fans—and players—were quick to make Jim the cause of the amazing performance.

Then it began happening with everyone. No matter what the sport, anyone Jim did an interview with would play outstandingly in their next game, and fans ate it up. Some were even calling him the end of the curse of William Penn. Jim was flattered, but it was scary being put in that position. He just hoped the ridiculous streak of luck continued.

When he arrived home, he saw Dwight fiddling with the intercom at the back door. Jim couldn't help but smile; any chance he had to mess with Dwight was welcome. He casually walked up and asked, "Intercom broken?"

"No, _Jim_," Dwight sighed, accenting his name in annoyance. "The new tenant moved in today, and I am labeling her apartment with her name."

Jim read the new name on the label: "Beesly…"

"Yes, and don't go try and corrupting her with your idiotic pranks."

"Idiotic?" Jim feigned shock. "Well they fool you every time, so…"

"Just!—" Dwight stammered and moved out of the way of the door, "Go take a shower. You smell like cheap beer."

Jim shrugged and went inside the building, but stopped at the top of the stairs when he heard muffled shouting coming from his new neighbor's apartment. He didn't want to be nosy, but they were being so loud that he could hear every word:

"So you think you're too good for me now?!" a male voice roared in anger.

"I never said that!" a female voice countered. "I've always told you this is what I wanted. You never listen!"

"No, I _am_ listening, that's the problem! I hear you when you talk about your future, and somehow I don't see how _I_ fit into the picture!"

"Maybe because I don't want to be stuck as your little housewife for the rest of my life!"

"Well if that's the way you feel, then maybe you won't have to!"

Jim made a quick escape into his apartment, and then heard the door across the hall open and slam shut and a pair of boots clunk down the hallway. He then heard the door open again, and this time a pair of quieter feet made their way down the hall and out another door. He figured his new neighbor had gone to the terrace out back. He wanted to introduce himself, but didn't want to bother her if she was upset, and so he did as Dwight had advised and took a shower. He did smell like beer.

… … …

After freshening up, Jim headed to the kitchen to make himself a late dinner, but was surprised by some faint sobs coming from outside the window. He glanced at the clock and wondered if this girl had been crying this whole time, and feeling like he couldn't just ignore her, he decided he would go out and meet her, maybe get her to calm down. He also assumed she probably didn't have any food in her apartment yet, and so instead of just making one ham and cheese sandwich, he made two.

He quietly approached the terrace door, sandwiches in hand, and knocked gently against it. Pam jumped out of her chair at the noise, but was calmed when she saw a smiling man carrying a couple of sandwiches. She dried her tears as he came outside and sat next to her, and they exchanged a small smile.

He set the sandwiches between them, and for a long moment they were silent. Finally, Pam spoke up, "You live in 3A?" He nodded and she continued, "Man, what a first impression to make. I don't know what you must think of me…"

"I don't think anything about you," he replied softly as they stared out onto the street below, watching cars passing and people walking by. It was a comforting lie; he already had so many thoughts about her, including how in the world someone could want to make her so upset.

"I just—I'm sorry. My boyfriend—"

"That was your boyfriend?" Jim interrupted and scoffed as he looked over at her. She shrunk down in her chair, even more ashamed than she was before, and he realized she had taken it personally, "It's just—I mean… sorry. He should have more respect for you, that's all…" Silence. "You certainly sounded like you were handling him all right, though."

She chuckled, "Yeah, I can hold my own." They let another beat pass between them before she spoke up again, "He just doesn't like that I'm 'moving up and leaving him behind'…" she used a pair of air quotes to accentuate her point, and then shook her head, "_I_ don't think that's I'm doing, but he's so stubborn…"

"Where did you move from?"

"Kensington."

"Kensington? Seriously?" Jim asked in disbelief, and she nodded. "Wow… no wonder he thinks that. Going from there to here—huge upgrade."

She laughed, "Tell me about it. I've wanted to live here ever since I was little."

"Me too," Jim agreed. "And now that I've been here a while, I love it. I can't imagine living anywhere else…" he looked over and saw her smiling, and so he finally felt comfortable to make his introductions, "I'm Jim, by the way, and that sandwich is for you if you want it."

"Thanks." Pam was a little hungry, and so she began to eat. "I'm Pam," she told him with her mouth full.

He chuckled at her, "Geez, Ms. Kensington, take a big enough bite?"

"Last name's Beesly, thank you, and I didn't realize I was having a late-night snack with the Prince of Wales."

"Oh you're not, I just appreciate good manners."

She giggled at him and they munched on their sandwiches, making small talk as they ate. They asked each other about their jobs, their hobbies, and finally she asked him about living in the neighborhood.

"So, is it just me, or is the super kind of—"

"Insane?"

Pam laughed, "Okay, so it's not just me."

"Not at all," they exchanged a smile and he continued, "Nah, I mean, he's very protective, which is good for the building. He can just be a little controlling sometimes. He wants to think he has a lot of power… I sometimes like to take him down a few notches by playing pranks on him."

"Really? Like what?"

Jim thought for a moment, "Well, one time I put some of his stuff in the vending machine downstairs." Pam gave him a momentary look of disbelief and then burst into laugher. It made him feel good to be able to make her laugh. "Yeah, uh, I went down to talk to him about fixing my garbage disposal, and he wasn't there, but his door was unlocked. And then I saw the vending guy restocking the machines, and just… thought it would be kinda funny."

Pam regained control of her giggles, "How did he get all his stuff out of there?"

"He had to buy it all back, of course."

"That's really cool."

"Thanks."

Pam saw the twinkle in his eye and felt relived to have such a friendly neighbor. She didn't think anyone in her building would be this outgoing, so she was pleasantly surprised to be laughing with the guy across the hall over sandwiches on her very first night there.

"So, hey," Jim broke her train of thought and she glanced over at him. He looked a little nervous. "I don't know how familiar you are with stuff in this neighborhood, but uh, maybe this weekend I could show you around?"

"Sure," Pam's face lit up at the invitation, and she felt her heart race a little in excitement.

"Great," he found it difficult to contain his smile as well, and then felt slightly embarrassed for being so eager. He hadn't ever felt like this around a woman, and didn't quite know how to deal with the tension. He decided finally to make his escape, "I'm gonna go to bed. But I'll see you around?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Night."

"Night." He picked up the now-empty plate and retreated inside, leaving Pam out on the terrace by herself. She felt a cool breeze brush by her, removing a few strands of hair from behind her ear, and so she quickly caught them and tucked them back into place. She smiled to herself as she thought about the hidden perks of living in a good neighborhood, and wondered what else she had still to discover about living there. She was thrilled to find out.

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_Why don't you drop me a review? I'd love to hear from you! (Oh look at me, rhyming away…)_


	2. Discovering Rittenhouse

_A/N: thanks so much for the overwhelming response!! I'm glad people are really interested in this story. Sorry I didn't get this chapter up sooner; I had it beta'ed and everything, but was just too busy to put the finishing touches on it. This week is my finals week of summer classes, so hopefully I'll be able to crank out the chapters fast than I did with this one after this week is over._

_Thanks a bunch to my beta, EmilyHalpert, and to my homegirls, MrsBigTuna and Bears Eat Beets, for giving me helpful ideas and suggestions. You guys rock!!_

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"Hiya Pumpkin," greeted the old man sitting on the stoop of the front entrance to the rowhouse. The woman going up the stairs stopped abruptly and began reprimanding him.

"Creed! I thought I referred you to the church on Spring Street!"

"Kicked me out. That place has too many rules, man…"

The woman arched an eyebrow and glared at him, "Rules…?"

Creed shrugged, "I was just having a little orgy in the sleeping quarters—"

"That's all I need to hear!" the small woman disgustedly turned and was halfway up the stairs when Pam came back from getting a gallon of milk from the market up the street.

She caught Creed's eye, "Hey there, Curly. Can ya spare a dime for an old man?"

Pam began digging through her purse when the woman in front of her, who was just inside the building, intervened, "He doesn't need your money! He's been kicked out of every homeless shelter in Philadelphia and refuses any kind of real help."

Pam and Creed exchanged a look, his eyes pleading with her to give him something, and so she finally forked over a five-dollar bill. "Much obliged, sweetie," he told her and went on his way down the street. The woman scoffed and closed the front door in Pam's face, forcing her to get out her key and reopen it, even though she was standing right there getting her mail.

"Um, I don't think we've met—" Pam said as she got into the building.

"Obviously not," the woman sneered.

"I'm Pam, I just moved into 3B… and I swear I'll just send that guy on his way next time…"

The woman sighed and turned to face Pam, "I'm Angela. I live in 2A."

"Nice to meet you," Pam offered, but it really wasn't. This was exactly the kind of person Pam expected to be living with—the snobby, tightly wound, frigid sort of woman who wore muted colors and buttoned-up collars. Frankly, she almost smiled when Angela held up the stereotype. They went up the steps and cordially parted ways at the second floor, and Pam continued upward, feeling butterflies in her stomach.

The last few days had been much better than she anticipated, and most of it was because of Jim. He had even helped her unpack some—once he had peeked into her apartment and saw the volume of boxes left yet to be unloaded. And they were going out the next day. Not on a date—she and Roy had made amends from earlier in the week and were still together—but she was still excited to spend time with Jim and learn more about him.

She hoped she would see him in the hallway when she got in, but she didn't. As she approached the door to her apartment she let out a heavy sigh, and instead decided to invite Roy over to watch TV and eat takeout.

… … …

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Jim heard Pam's voice coming from the hallway as he climbed the stairs. He assumed she was probably talking to that boyfriend of hers, and he frowned at the thought of it.

"Sorry Pammy, I have to get to the demolition site early tomorrow morning. I need some sleep."

"Alright…" Pam sighed, sounding disappointed.

"Bye babe," her boyfriend said sweetly. Jim rolled his eyes, and knew he'd pass this guy in the hallway and have to put on his friendly face. He got to the top of the steps and saw them kissing outside her doorway, which made him grimace a bit.

Pam broke their kiss as soon as she saw him coming down the hallway, and her face immediately brightened, "Oh! Hey, Jim! This is Roy, my—"

"Holy crap!" Roy turned and interrupted Pam's introductions. She was more than a little confused by Roy's astonishment. "Philly Jim!"

Jim chuckled, embarrassed, and looked down at his shoes. Great, he thought, her boyfriend was a fan. "Yeah…"

"Pam! This is—! Do you know who this is?"

Pam looked from one man to the other as Roy continued to gawk, and came up with the best answer she could, "Uh… my neighbor?"

"This is the guy," Roy explained as he put an arm around Jim's tensed shoulders, "who is saving Philadelphia sports right now. This is the man who will end the curse! And when he does, we're gonna tear down ol' Billy and put a statue up of this guy!" It took him a moment for his star-struck disposition to wear off, and for him to realize, "And you live here, man!"

Jim nodded his head, "Yep."

"Oh man! This is insane. I can't wait to tell Darryl!" Roy exclaimed as Pam and Jim exchanged a glance, both uncomfortable, but for different reasons. Roy began to get out his phone and quickly gave Pam a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you later sweetie—Hey man. You are not going to believe this…" he said into the receiver as he walked down the hallway and stairs, leaving the two in an awkward silence.

Pam gave him a skeptical look, "So when you said you wrote for _The Philadelphia Inquirer_…"

"I never said what section," Jim told her defensively, yet with a grin. He was glad to see her return a smile, and thought she couldn't be too upset with him. But not wanting to push his luck, he quickly changed the subject, "How about I tell you all about it tomorrow. We're still on for a day of discovering Rittenhouse, right?"

"Absolutely," Pam beamed, feeling the butterflies in her stomach again. Little did she know, Jim had the same sensation in his stomach. They said their goodnights and went inside their apartments, both feeling anxious about the day to come.

… … …

"Ready to go?" Jim asked as they met in the third floor hallway the next morning. He had a whole day planned for her, starting her off with brunch at one of his favorite bistros and dragging her all around town from there. She had _no_ idea what she was in for.

"Yep! Let's do it," Pam smiled, and they made their way down the stairs and out into the warm spring air. "So where to first?" she asked, practically skipping down the sidewalk.

"It's called The Happy Rooster. It's a bit of a walk, but it's worth it. They serve the best brunch."

They walked for a while until they got to the restaurant, which had a huge line outside, but several of the people in line recognized the lucky sports writer and let them cut to the front. He refused at first, but with enough badgering, eventually accepted their offers, and they got a table in no time. Pam thought she could get used to hanging out with someone with celebrity status, and made sure to soak up all the attention she got from other customers.

She fumbled a bit when he asked her what she was looking at on the menu, worried over the prices. He noticed her hesitation though, and quickly told her that all the meals today were his treat, and so she should feel free to order whatever she wanted. With her doubts put to rest, she decided to be fancy and order herself a mimosa and their signature French toast. Jim ordered a custom omelet.

"So how does it feel to be a Philly icon?" Pam asked coyly as she sipped her drink.

Jim laughed, "It's a little embarrassing. Sometimes I wish I just still blended in and didn't have random people coming up to me to ask me to high-five them or something. The worst is when people shout out my name on the street—"

"Frat boy style?" Pam asked, quietly imitating an annoying fan, "Woo!!"

"Exactly. I mean, the perks are great, but the pressure is intense. Like, sure, they're praising me now, but if something goes wrong…"

"Huh. I never thought of it that way." Pam empathized. She gave him a soft smile just as their food arrived, and then added, "Maybe you are lucky though, and things will turn out great."

Jim smiled thoughtfully at her as she poured syrup on her French toast, and replied softly, "Yeah, maybe…"

… … …

"Here we are," Jim said as they went into a shop called Town Home. "A friend of mine works here. The stuff is a little on the expensive side, but it's good quality."

Pam made a beeline for some knickknacks, picked one up randomly, and said in a jokingly arrogant tone, "Oh yes, this would look lovely in the drawing room!" They laughed and walked around until they found Andy, Jim's friend, arranging some shelves.

"Hey Tuna, how's it hangin'?" Andy asked as they bumped fists and he made a small accompanying explosion sound. Jim looked thoroughly embarrassed as Andy noticed Pam standing next to him. "Hello, my fair lady. I am Andrew Bernard, home furnishings salesman extraordinaire… and alumnus of Cornell University. Ya ever heard of it?" Pam was unsure if she should answer him, but luckily he started talking again before the silence became too awkward. "How is it that you know the Tuna?"

"Tuna…?" Pam asked and looked up at Jim, who was rolling his eyes.

"We met in college, when he was visiting UPenn," Jim explained. "He knew my roommate from high school, and was crashing at our place for the weekend… and I was eating a tuna sandwich when we met." Pam nodded knowingly as he then addressed Andy, "Pam lives across the hall from me."

"Sweet. That's a nice place, isn't it? Except for some of the hobo spill-over from the park." Pam laughed inwardly as she was reminded of Creed, and then tuned back in as Andy went on, "Well, please let me know if you need anything. Since you are a friend of Tuna's, I can get you a pretty awesome discount. Just let me know when you're ready to check out."

Thanking him, they continued their way around the store. Pam loved all the unique items this shop had to offer, but finally settled on buying a set of coasters and a few scented candles. Andy gave her a hefty discount, which she was grateful for, and then they said their farewells. Pam made her way outside while Jim hung back, making sure their poker game was still on for Tuesday night. Andy ecstatically replied affirmatively, and they pounded fists before Jim walked out of the store.

"He was nice," Pam commented as they left.

"He's crazy," Jim countered, knowing she was just being polite, and they both laughed at the truth. "I mean, he could be doing a lot with his degree and he chooses to work in retail… I don't get it, but hey, he's a good guy—and he sucks at poker—so we keep him around."

Pam watched his lopsided smile fade as he stared at the sidewalk, and she couldn't help but shudder a little. She felt butterflies all over now. She still had a hard time believing he would willingly devote his whole day to showing her around; never before had any guy shown such an interest in her, not even Roy. She couldn't help but wonder if he was just nice with everyone or if she was a special case…

She secretly hoped it was the latter.

… … …

"And we end our visit," Jim said in his tour guide voice, "of rustic Rittenhouse Square, with my favorite bar in the whole wide world, Monk's Café." He held the door open for Pam as she stepped in to a dimly lit bar that had tables set up along one of the walls. A hostess seated them near the back, and soon enough a waitress was there to take their orders.

The redhead sprung herself upon them and tousled Jim's hair a bit, making him blush. "Heya sweetcheeks, how's it goin'?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Hey Meredith. Just fine, thanks. How about yourself?" he replied warmly as he smoothed his hair back down.

"Oh, you know, I'm doing great, Jakey's doing great… I'm still seeing that guy, Gary Trundell? You remember him, he was a bartender here for a while until he threw a chair into the wall… So don't you try any funny business with me!"

"Oh, I wouldn't think of—"

"Cause he'll kick the crap out of you!" Meredith laughed at her joke as Jim stared at the tabletop, wide-eyed. "Don't worry hon," she addressed Pam, "He's the nicest guy you'll find on this side of the Delaware River." She winked at her knowingly, and this time it was Pam's turn to blush. "So what can I get you two?"

"We are going to split a basket of Spanish flies—"

"Flies?" Pam asked in a skeptical tone.

"It's just chicken wings," Meredith put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a pat.

"And a pitcher of the house ale," Jim told her as he snatched up Pam's menu and told her with his expression, _trust me_. She bit her lip and nodded her head, and soon enough Meredith was back with a pitcher of beer. He poured her a glass and proposed a toast: "To, uh… new discoveries."

Pam smiled as they clinked their glasses together and drank up. She puckered at the taste, "That's… really malty."

"This?" Jim asked in disbelief. "No, no, no, if you want malty, try the Scaldis." She raised an eyebrow at him, taunting him at the fact that he obviously was somewhat of a beer snob, and he just shook his head and assured her, "You just wait, Beesly. Those chicken wings are gonna be _hot_, and you'll be glad I got us a pitcher of this stuff."

"Alright, I trust you…" Pam said, and then added a teasing, "I guess…"

"Good," Jim laughed, and their conversation fell silent. He knitted his brows together in concentration and looked straight at her, "So, can I ask you something?"

His looked made her heart jump. She nodded, "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jim looked down and focused on the condensation forming on his glass. Taking a breath, he looked up at her, "I really don't want this to sound disrespectful or anything, cause I don't know the guy, but, Roy just seems… kind of…"

"Inconsiderate?" she finished his sentence for him.

"Inconsiderate is… such a harsh word…"

Pam laughed, "No, it's okay. I know he's not a perfect guy. I mean, when our waitress—"

"Meredith—"

"—was talking about her boyfriend who threw a chair into the wall, it kind of reminded me of him."

Jim's eyebrows shot up and asked concernedly, "What! Really?"

"Yeah. One time we were at a bar, and he got really mad at me for some stupid reason, and threw a shot glass against the bar wall and shattered a mirror." She paused for a moment to take in his stunned reaction, and then decided to play it off as something that wasn't a big deal. "But it was just a one time thing. He's never done anything like that before, and hasn't ever since… I mean, he'll get angry, but never violent."

The conversation lulled into silence until Jim spoke up, his tone full of apprehension, "Yeah I guess… but _still_—"

"Jim, really, don't worry. I've been with him on and off again for five years. I know how to deal with him when he gets upset."

"Five years?"

Pam chuckled, trying to ease the tension, "Yeah. We've known each other since high school, but he was always way too cool for me. Jock type, you know." Jim nodded. "Anyway, turns out a college degree ends up being much cooler than being on the football team years ago, because when I moved back here to start job hunting, he noticed me at the local hangouts in Kensington and we just kinda started dating… Then, we broke up. Then we started dating again. And then we did all that a couple more times. He's a decent guy though…"

She suddenly felt very self-conscious, and couldn't help biting her tongue. It was the way she phrased her last sentence that brought it on, how she said he was 'decent'. Decent compared to the one sitting across the table from her, she almost let herself think. She didn't want to continue on that train of thought, and so she took a sip of her beer to calm her nerves.

"Well at least he's loyal," Jim offered, trying to see Roy's good side. "I mean, I've had a few long-term relationships, but they always seem to fall apart. My most recent ex, Karen, broke up with me because I wouldn't move with her to New York when she got a promotion. Keep in mind this was after the whole 'me being lucky' thing got started—"

"Yeah, that's pretty lame," Pam agreed. "I mean, didn't she realize how important you were to everyone here?"

"Didn't she realize I would have to start writing about the _Knicks_?" Jim made a disgusted noise and Pam laughed at him, just as Meredith brought out their food. "Nah, but I could tell that relationship wasn't going anywhere. She was always bugging me about telling her all my thoughts and feelings, and I just think if you're really with who you're meant to be with, you should just be able to pick up on how they feel, ya know?"

Pam nodded her head, "Mmhmm, like a person's body language and stuff."

"Eighty percent of what you say doesn't come out of your mouth."

"Really? Where does it come out of?"

Jim shook his head at her, trying to stifle a grin, and finally decided to throw a French fry at her. "Dork," he muttered as the fry landed on the table. Pam picked it up, a huge smile on her face, and she chomped down on it triumphantly.

… … …

They stood awkwardly at their doors, both a little tipsy from the beer, and smiled at each other. Neither one really wanted to say goodnight and have the day end.

"This was really fun. Thank you," Pam told him shyly.

"Yeah, it was really great…" He paused and then thought for a moment, "Hey… so I've been thinking about this prank I want to pull on Dwight, and I figured I could use a… a partner in crime. Do you want to help me with it?"

She bit her lip and steadied herself against her doorframe, "Yeah, I think that would be really cool."

"Okay."

"Okay." She let her eyes glaze over as she stared at him. She wasn't sure she could ask for a better neighbor.

"What?" he asked inquisitively as he returned her gaze.

"Nothing."

"Okay."

"Okay… Goodnight," she made a small wave to him and went inside, leaving him in the hallway, his door still locked.

"Night, Pam," he whispered into the quiet corridor.

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_Intrigued yet? Drop me a review and I might be motivated to get the next chapter up quickly!_

_...I realize that kind of sounds like a threat. It's not, but if threats are what motivate you to review, then by all means, it's a threat._


	3. Workdays

_A/N: I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this story!! Adding all the characters into this setting is one of the most fun things, and we get to meet even more in this chapter! Just an FYI, this got bumped up to a T rating for something Phyllis says in this chapter. Yes, Phyllis says something that gets a T rating. I made her feisty. :)_

_EmilyHalpert is a fantastic beta!_

_Please read, review, and enjoy!_

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Jim walked up the steps and through the revolving doors of the Philadelphia Media Holdings building and got in the elevator, taking it up to the eighth floor. He had the notes from his interviews with Utley and Howard in his messenger bag, ready to be typed up and sent to his editor, but he felt like he could hardly concentrate today. Even with their incredible performance on the diamond yesterday after he interviewed them, his mind was elsewhere.

He was completely preoccupied with thoughts of her. On the day they had spent together. He kept replaying it in his mind over and over, wanting to soak up every smile and every laugh they shared. He was jolted back to reality though, by the pile of papers on his desk, and so he decided he had to stop dwelling on her for a while and actually get some work done.

"Hey Jim," his desk mate, an older woman, greeted him as she sat down with a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Hey Phyllis, how was Penn State this weekend?"

She beamed, "Oh, Bobby and I had a wonderful time. I mean, the baseball team sucked more than a vacuum cleaner, but ladies' soccer did well, and we had some time to go to the Matson Museum too."

"Wow. Busy weekend." Phyllis nodded and turned her attention back to her computer before Jim snidely commented, "So, 'sucked more than a vacuum cleaner'… Is that going in the official write-up?" She shook her had at his remark, but stopped abruptly as her eyes went wide. She motioned to Jim to watch out, but it was too late; he had already turned to see what she was looking at.

Their editor was making a beeline straight for their desks.

Jim quickly turned around, praying he would walk right past, but no such luck. He stopped in front of them and held out his arms, "There they are! My dream team!"

"Hi Michael," they mumbled.

Michael put his foot up on Jim's desk, "So how was your weekend?"

"Oh, well Bobby and I—"

Michael stammered, "Blhulahah, not _you_, Phyllis. When do I ever ask you how _your_ weekend was? I was asking the big guy over here! How was your weekend, man?" He hit Jim on the shoulder, perhaps a little too forcefully. "Saw the game, obviously."

"Yeah, I'll have a draft of the interview I did with Utley and Howard by the end of the day…"

"Jim, Jim, Jim," Michael waved his hands to silence him, "I'm not even worried about it. We are friends, and I know you got my back. I know that you… feel me… _dawg_." Their conversation grew silent, Jim secretly hoping Michael would dig himself into a deeper hole of stupidity, but he didn't. Instead he changed the subject, "So what'd you do on Saturday? Day off and all."

Jim's expression immediately brightened at the thought of Pam, but he tried his best to conceal it, "Oh, I showed my new neighbor around Rittenhouse. We walked around, I showed her different places in the neighborhood…"

"That sounds fun," Phyllis nodded.

Michael held back for as long as he could, but eventually burst into laughter, "So, a 'her,' huh… Did—did you get any?"

Phyllis glared at her boss, "Michael…"

"I'm just asking, Phyllis! Men talk about this kind of stuff! If you can't handle it, maybe you should go write wedding announcements, or stuff about fashion…" He ignored her glare and turned back to Jim, "So, did you?"

Jim sighed, "No, Michael, she's my neighbor. And, she has a boyfriend."

"BFD, boyfriend ain't husband," Michael replied, causing Jim to put his head in his hands, mortified. Michael continued, "I just think, you might be in a bit of a dry spell—"

"What!"

"And you just need to get laid, and then you'll remember how to talk to women again. I mean, you spend the _whole day_ with this neighbor girl, and you don't even make a move?? That is being way too intro…versile, my friend…" Michael contemplated all the possibilities his buddy had to get some action, and finally he came up with something. "Hey, what about that girl, Katy?"

Phyllis spoke up from behind her computer screen, "No, they broke up, like three years ago."

"Thanks Phyllis," Jim said exasperatedly before looking up at Michael, who still wanted an explanation. "Plus, she's a Sixers Dancer, and I was just a copy editor back then—"

"She broke up with you because of your job?" Michael furrowed his brows.

Jim sighed, not wanting to rehash his former relationships, "Well when you spend most of your time with NBA basketball players, yes, a lowly copy editor seems a little below your league."

"She was blowing half the team," Phyllis commented nonchalantly, getting stunned looks from both Jim and Michael. She gave them a smirk, showing them she could handle guy talk, and added, "Still is, I'm pretty sure."

"Anyway…" Jim brought the conversation back on track, "Whether or not I'm going through a 'dry spell' is no one's business but mine, and as for my neighbor…" He glanced at the front entrance and was saved by the woman walking through the door, "Oh, Michael, your wife is here."

"Oh! Gahh! Where?" Michael ducked behind Jim, but this made Jim even more adamant on waving her over. Michael stood up and played his absurd behavior off like he was looking for something, "Nope, I do not see your contact, Jim—Oh, hey babe, how are ya feelin'?"

His wife, about six months pregnant and scowling, answered him coldly, "I'm feeling _fine_, Michael. Except, _someone_ didn't leave enough milk this morning for me to have cereal, and so I had to waddle my way down Broad Street to the corner market in this ridiculous heat—"

"It's actually pretty chilly out today—"

"Don't use up all the milk next time!!" she screeched. Surprisingly, the rest of the office hardly paid attention to her ranting; she did it enough that people hardly noticed anymore. She looked around at Michael, Jim, and Phyllis, who all seemed extremely uncomfortable, and finally told him, "You need to drive me home. I am not walking anywhere else today."

Michael nodded and escorted her to the door, leaving Phyllis to stifle her laughter.

"Jan's nuts," she commented, turning her attention back to her work.

"It's just cause she's pregnant," Jim said in her defense. Phyllis shrugged in response, and so he let the conversation drop and turned back to his computer.

… … …

Pam was sitting in her office, intently focused on the final touches to the updated exhibitions page of the PAFA website, when she was startled by a knock at the door.

"Pam?" a Hispanic man cautiously peeked his head in the doorway and told her, "The meeting started five minutes ago."

She looked at the clock on her computer screen, "Oh shoot! Thanks, Oscar." She quickly gathered up her things and followed him down the art-filled hallway to the conference room. Her boss and everyone else in the Development and Marketing department were waiting for her. "Sorry Ryan," she excused herself sheepishly, "I was just finishing some updates to the website."

"That's okay. Just, don't do it again, alright?" Pam nodded her head and Ryan continued, "Alright, so everyone knows we're gearing up for Reverberations, right? Over thirty artists, over a hundred works of art, all sponsored by Bank of America…?" His staff nodded their heads. "Great. Now, the opening is May 18th, and there is a Preview Party on May 16th—Pam, do you have the literature on all that?"

She took out her mock-ups, "Yeah, um, here are the brochures that will go with the exhibition, and this is the invitation for the Preview Party…"

Ryan looked them over with a discerning eye, "Okay, for the brochures, I'm not exactly set on the color scheme. Why don't you go over next door and take a look at some of the works, and then come back here and give me a couple different options based on what you saw, okay?"

"Okay—"

"Don't interrupt."

"Oh, I just—"

"I also want the text here to be bolder, and for these invitations, can you get the Bank of America logo on there somewhere? We're sending it out to their Board of Directors, after all." Pam nodded and he went on, "All right. Exhibition Coordination: Oscar, how's the planning for the Preview Party coming along?"

"Uh, great, actually. It looks like we'll have enough money in the budget for people to each bring a guest—"

"What party-planning service did you go with this time?"

"I went with a woman named Angela Martin. She's been exclusively with the city council for years, but recently she started her own private party-planning service." Everyone chattered in agreement about how the city always put on wonderful events, and Oscar continued, "She's taking care of the catering, the music, everything."

"Good," Ryan nodded his head in approval, "And lastly, Patron Relations… Toby, do you have an updated guest list ready to go when Pam is done with the invitations?" A dejected man at the far end of the table slowly nodded his head, and Ryan took it to mean a yes, "Okay, great. I think we're set for the Preview Party then. If there's any last-minute changes, I'll send you all a memo." He dismissed his staff and they slowly filed out of the conference room and walked back to their offices.

Pam and Oscar quickly caught up with Toby, worried about his sullen demeanor, and Pam spoke up first, "Hey, are you okay?"

Toby turned back and looked at the both of them, and then said plainly, "My wife wants a divorce." His two friends stood there in the hallway with him with shocked expressions as he went on, "Yeah, she told me on Saturday. She wants full custody of Sasha, too."

"I'm sorry, man," Oscar patted Toby on the shoulder. "But don't worry, it'll be okay."

Pam gave him a forced smile, "Yeah, I mean, no judge would side with her. You're a great dad."

A small hint of a smile started to appear on his face as they each gave him a hug. He murmured jokingly to them, "So, for our next book club meeting, let's not read anything with too much of a happy ending, okay? I think that would make me even more depressed…"

"Sure thing," Oscar chuckled, knowing beneath the solemn exterior that Toby would be all right. They all parted ways and went back to their offices, and that's when Pam remembered her assignment. She quickly got her digital camera out and went over to the Fisher Brooks Gallery next door, where they were just finishing organizing the artworks for Reverberations.

She walked around and gazed upon all the different works and mediums of art. The collection was named Reverberations for the intense color and geometry of its works, and looking at all of them, Pam could definitely see the theme playing out. These artists seemed so bold to her, so confident in the way they put their pieces together. It seemed as though they really had a message to convey through their canvases, and it made Pam wonder what kind of message she had to convey in her own, simple sketches. It was nothing like trying to capture the hands of the peasants, but she felt like she had her own story to tell.

She felt like hers was a story of triumph, and of growth. After getting her Art History degree, she had moved back to her old neighborhood, hung out with her old high school friends, got into old habits… It was comfortable, but she knew it wasn't where she belonged. And so she resolved to go after what she wanted. She took computer graphics courses and quickly rose to the head of her class. She got excellent recommendations and landed an entry-level job at PAFA, and slowly worked her way up from there.

People could see how diligent and creative she was, and it seemed like the more responsibility and privilege they gave her, the more brilliant her designs became.

Now she was finally living her dream, and felt like she had achieved almost everything she had set out to accomplish. She only had a couple remnants of her old life back in Kensington, one of which was Roy. She didn't know why he couldn't just be happy for her success; was it really so bad that she made more money than him? That she would be able to support him if they wanted to get married and settle down?

To him, it was, and it seemed like that small difference in ideology made all the difference.

And then she thought of Jim—how down to earth and considerate he was of her—and she let the notion pass through her mind that maybe _he_ was the one she should be with. He seemed to understand who she _really_ was, and not just have some vague memory of who she was back in high school. She thought of their conversation on Saturday, and how he said the one you're really meant to be with will just understand you instinctively, and she smiled as she pondered how "instinctive" he already seemed toward her.

Realizing she was still on company time, she quickly snapped a few shots of the works with the best color schemes, and then headed back to her office to load them onto her computer. She worked diligently on the brochures for the rest of the day, but couldn't seem to keep her mind off her new neighbor.

… … …

"Hey," Jim said as he walked up to the mailboxes in the small lobby of the rowhouse. Pam looked over at him with a smile and tried to conceal the red flushing up in her cheeks.

"Hey," she replied, attempting to sound casual. They stood there and looked through their mail, making faces at bills, dropping junk mail into the recycling can at their feet, and eventually she found the courage to speak again, "You… went to work today?"

Jim gave her a smug smirk, "Yes Pam, despite what you may think, sports writers don't spend their whole lives at the stadium." She laughed and they started to make their way up the stairs as he questioned, "Did _you_ go to work today?"

"I did," she replied with a grin. "We finished planning an exhibition opening."

"That sounds cool."

"Yeah, it should be good. We got this woman who worked for the city events committee or something to work on it."

Jim raised an eyebrow at her, "Angela Martin?"

"I think that was her name…"

"She lives in this building."

Pam leaned against the door to her apartment and touched her fingers to her forehead, a twinge away from smacking herself silly, "Oh, gosh! Right! I met her a few days ago! _That's_ the party-planning Angela?"

"It certainly is. She put together that _huge_ fundraiser last year in the park—"

"I remember that!" Pam laughed a little at herself for not putting two and two together, and then realized. "She seems kind of…"

"Frigid?"

"Yes."

Jim shrugged, "She is I guess, but she does a great job. You'll be fine, just don't get on her bad side."

"Might be too late for that…" Pam admitted. "I gave some homeless guy money when she told me not to."

"Creed?" he inquired and she gave a small nod. "Oh man, I want to hear about your encounter with Creed. You wanna come in for a beer and tell me about it?" he asked hesitantly.

Pam bit her lip, knowing she should be calling and checking in with Roy, but after remembering her reflections in the art gallery this afternoon, she ultimately decided against it. If she was seriously considering dumping Roy for this guy, she at least needed to find out more about him.

"Sure," she replied. "Just let me put my stuff down and I'll be right over."

"Great!" Jim said a little too enthusiastically. They smiled at each other and went into their apartments, Pam dropping her stuff just inside her door and scurrying back over to the other side of the hallway. She playfully knocked on the door, pretending to act very sophisticated, and giggled when he opened it and gave her a look, "Well, imagine meeting you here. Come on in."

"Thanks."

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_You know what I'm looking for! Click that little periwinkle box in the left-hand corner and write me a review!! Please?_


	4. Pranks and Poker

_A/N: I love love LOVE this chapter!! Really, the amount of references I managed to work in and the sheer emotion it evokes from me is ridiculous. I shouldn't be this geeked over my own story, should I? Anyway, one of my anonymous reviewers requested Kelly. Don't worry dear, you get a whole lot of Kelly in this chapter. Enjoy!  
_

_I can't say enough good things about EmilyHalpert. She knows exactly what I want to say and rephrases my sentences so well; it's wonderful having her as a beta._

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They talked for hours, sharing a couple beers and a pizza, and discussing every subject under the sun. Jim told her about Creed and all the tenants in the building: Angela, who she had already met, was a no-nonsense type of woman with at least ten cats in her apartment. It was something the landlord wasn't too pleased with her about, but chose to ignore. Jim also told her about Stanley and Terri, the couple on the first floor who mostly kept to themselves, but whose teenage daughters caused a lot of commotion.

"Melissa definitely sounds like a handful," Pam said as she took a bite of pizza crust.

"Sometimes she annoys Dwight more than I do," Jim laughed... "She and her friends are always really loud, but when Dwight tells Stanley to quiet them down, Stanley just laughs in his face."

"Aww, poor Dwight."

Jim nodded, "Yeah. He's so annoying, but sometimes he's just… pathetic." They ate in silence, reflecting on their superintendent, and then Jim told her, "You know, he owns a beet farm."

"He does?" Pam asked incredulously.

"Yeah. He grew up there, but came here to make some money on the side. Now his cousin runs it, but every so often he goes home to check on it and stuff."

"That's hilarious! Um, but why beets?"

"Because they're so nutritious, Pam."

"Oh, of course," she giggled.

Jim's smile grew wider at the thought of making her laugh, "But you haven't even heard the best part," he told her, and watched as she gave him a curious expression. "It's also a bed and breakfast."

She let out a snort, "Oh yeah, cause a beet farm is _so_ romantic—" but then she stopped herself as images of a romantic getaway with Jim flashed involuntarily through her mind. She held her tongue, convincing herself she shouldn't think about him in that way, and steered the conversation toward safer waters, "Um, so where did _you_ grow up?"

"Oh, down in Glenolden, by the airport."

"That's a nice place."

He nodded, "Yeah. It's got that average, midtown America feel. The entire town is _obsessed_ with sports. Even when my brother and I were little we would go watch the high school sports. It was a community thing, you know?"

"Uh huh."

"And Vince Papale was born there, so he's kind of a local hero…" he trailed off, lost in memories and nostalgia, and Pam couldn't help but think that this moment they were sharing was extremely intimate. "I dunno," Jim continued, "I guess it was fate for me to do something with sports. I played basketball a little in high school, but I always preferred talking about the pros with my friends and stuff. That's how I got into writing about it. High school newspaper, you know."

"Big-time syndication."

"Absolutely," he smirked in response.

She smiled at him thoughtfully, "But yeah, I know what you mean. My family's go-to gift for me for birthday presents and stuff was always coloring books. I think I must've had hundreds when I was younger…"

"A little too old for coloring books now, Beesly?" he asked smugly.

Without missing a beat, she came back with, " Oh yeah. Now I'm up to tracings." They both laughed as she continued earnestly, "Well, drawing's actually not really my thing. I do a lot better with graphic design. Maybe I could show you a little of my work sometime?"

"I'd like that," he smiled at her and she felt her cheeks flush. She thought she could see him turning red as well, but wasn't sure if it was from the beer or electricity between them.

He then turned to her and said, "So, I've been meaning to tell you about this prank I want to pull on Dwight…"

Pam's eyes lit up, "Oh yeah! What's the plan?"

He told her his idea and they carefully began mapping the whole scheme out, and decided to execute it the next evening. It was perfect until Jim realized, "Oh shoot! My poker game is tomorrow night…"

"Oh, that's okay," Pam told him, "We can just do it Wednesday or Thursday—"

He frowned, "I have to work both those nights…" They sat back and thought for a moment, both impatient now that they had the prank planned, and finally Jim came up with a solution, "Why don't you just come to the poker game?"

Pam stammered, "Oh, are you sure? I don't want to intrude—"

"No way. You'll be fine," he assured her, and then added grudgingly, "You can even bring Roy or someone along, if you want…"

"Oh," Pam thought for a moment about her boyfriend and how he had humiliated her in front of Jim the last time they were all together. Fearing a repeat of his behavior, she lied, "I think he's working late tomorrow… But I might ask a friend to come, if that's all right…"

"Sure," Jim smiled, happy that Roy wouldn't be joining them. "The more the merrier."

… … …

"Ohmygod, I'm _so_ excited! This will be just like that episode of _Friends_ where the girls try to learn about poker and try to beat the guys and then it just gets down to Rachel and Ross and Rachel gets a phone call telling her she got turned down for a job so everyone's like giving money to them and stuff to up the ante…"

"Kelly—"

"And Ross is soooo nice because he lets her win and stuff!"

"Kelly."

"What?"

Pam frowned, "You know how to play poker, right?"

"Oh, totally," Kelly replied. "I learned from watching the World Series of Poker when Shannon Elizabeth was on and she looked soooo adorable in that low-cut boho dress and aviators…"

Pam wasn't sure how she had stayed friends with Kelly all these years, but Kelly was another piece of Kensington that had managed to stay with her. In high school, Kelly was one of the most popular girls in school, who made her own clothes and always set fashion trends. She was always running color schemes by Pam, knowing she had a knack for that "designy" thing. Now, Kelly was pretty successful herself, and owned one of Philly's most fashion-forward boutiques, Knit Wit. In fact, it was Kelly who had given her the nudge she needed to go after her goals:

"_Pam, seriously, you just need to like get off your butt, go get some hot clothes, go take some graphics courses or whatever, and then you'll be totally awesome—like that girl in My Big Fat Greek Wedding!"_

She shook her head at the memory, wondering why _that_ was what finally motivated her, but she was thankful it had. Maybe that's why she and Kelly remained such good friends all these years. As she picked at her salad and listened to Kelly chatter away, Pam realized she needed to warn her about Jim. Kelly knew better than anyone about all the Philly celebs, and Pam didn't want her making a scene.

"Um, so Kelly—"

"…So, I don't understand why the closet engineer didn't think of that…"

"Kelly—"

"Yeah?"

Pam knitted her brows together and started in, "So, back to poker…"

"Okay… Ohmygod! I totally know what earrings I'll wear tonight! They look like diamonds—you know, like diamonds on playing cards—and one is red and one is black! How cute is that!"

"Very cute. Listen Kelly, this guy who's my neighbor… he's kinda famous."

"Famous?" Kelly's eyes lit up.

"But just around here. See, he's a sports writer—"

"The good luck charm??" she gasped, and Pam gave a little nod. "Oh. My. God!! How did you keep this from me for so long?? He's the one you went out with on Saturday, right?" Pam nodded again, and watched Kelly spiral into another bottomless, one-sided conversation, "Pam, you seriously need lessons in gossiping with your BFF, cause this is the kind of thing you share _immediately_ after you learn about it! Ohmygod, do you think it would be too fangirl of me to ask him to give me a high five?? All his friends are probably just as cool, which means I need to look _super_ hot tonight…"

Pam signaled for a refill on her lemonade, glad that Kelly was getting all of this out of her system now.

… … …

"Hey," Jim answered the door, grinning happily. He had asked Pam to come over early so they could finalize the plans for their prank, but it didn't hurt that it was also a little extra time he got to spend with her.

She held up a glove in each of her hands, "Okay, so this is one of Roy's construction gloves—looks like it could belong to a serial killer—or we have this latex glove I stole from the Archival room at the museum." She stepped inside and handed the construction glove to him, and he looked it over carefully.

He sighed dramatically, as if he was making the biggest decision of his life, and then said, "I'm gonna have to go with latex. I mean, if we're trying to convince Dwight that he killed someone, we have to think of what he would use, and I personally think he'd go for latex."

"Very true," Pam nodded in agreement.

Jim went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of corn syrup from the cupboard. He held it up and asked her in a devious voice, "Ready to make some blood?"

She giggled at him and replied, "Absolutely."

They mixed their concoction together, chatting about work and poker, and before they knew it, Jim's friends were arriving for the game. The first one that arrived came with the cards and poker chips, and seemed a bit confused by Pam's presence.

"Uhh… hi. I'm Kevin," he told her as he shook her hand.

"Pam. Nice to meet you," she replied.

He then leaned over and whispered to Jim, "I thought these poker nights were guys only."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"You said it to Karen once…"

Jim glanced nervously over at his female guest and then turned back to Kevin, "Yeah, well… that was an… extenuating circumstance." He nodded his head assuredly as Kevin thought about what the word 'extenuating' meant. After a brief moment, he gave up.

"Oh. Okay."

The rest of the players soon filed in: Andy, who Pam knew already, and two other men, Josh and Martin. She introduced herself politely and then Jim led her away into the kitchen to prepare the bloody glove. Once the glove was dripping in the dark red liquid, they carefully took it out into the hallway and placed it at the top of the steps, making sure Dwight would see it when he made his nightly security rounds. They stepped back and admired their work just when Kelly reached the top of the stairs.

"Hey Pam!—Eww, what is that? That looks gross—"

"It's just corn syrup, water, food coloring and flour," Jim casually explained, but was silenced by the starstruck look in Kelly's eyes.

"Ohmygod, Philly Jim! Okay, I know I promised you I wouldn't freak out, but I'm sorry Pam, this is way too awesome!! Would it be too weird if you like, gave me a high five or something? Or maybe you should wait until after the poker game so I don't take all your luck away from you…"

He glanced over at Pam, his eyes asking her if this was _really_ the friend she had invited to his poker game, and she just gave him a simple shrug back. He turned back to Kelly, "How about we just shake hands? I'm Jim—"

"Well duh! I'm Kelly. It's _so_ great to meet you." She took his hand and with one fluid motion, pulled him toward her just as she brought out her camera phone from behind her back. She smiled and snapped a picture of the two of them, and then began pressing buttons feverishly. "This is totally my new MySpace picture," she commented to them as they exchanged another glance and walked back down the hall.

… … …

After playing for a few hours, the blinds were starting to get high. Andy and Kelly had gone out early in the game and were chatting over on the couch. The rest of the group watched the game vigilantly—it was just down to Jim, Pam and Josh now, with Kevin acting as the dealer.

They got their cards and studied them carefully before placing initial bets. Josh immediately folded, as he had been doing all night, and so Jim and Pam kept a keen eye on each other as they discarded. When Pam got her two new cards, she couldn't keep her gaze on him any longer, and had to smile and look away.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"'Yeah, right,' what?" she asked playfully. She was a terrible bluffer, and her growing attraction to him made it worse.

"What was this?" He imitated the same face she had just made, and she laughed at him.

"I have good cards."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," she affirmed and got herself under control before saying smoothly, "And I'm gonna take you all-in." She pushed her chips to the center of the table, a challenge not just to see if he could tell if she was bluffing, but what he would do about it.

"Wow." He kept his eye on her, acting perceptive, and told her, "I think you're bluffing." She gave him a flirtatious shrug as he put his chips in, and he knew there could only be two outcomes. Either she was bluffing and he had learned to read her very well, or she wasn't bluffing and would take some of his money. In his book, it was a win-win situation.

Kevin, who had carefully watched the whole exchange but didn't quite understand it, added in his two cents, "Yeah, I think she's full of it." He signaled them to lay down their cards, and the table watched closely to see who won the hand.

"Straight."

"Oh. Three nines."

"Jim Halpert, ladies and gentlemen," Kevin began to applaud, and the rest of the group followed suit as Pam collected her large pile of chips.

"Thank you very much," he said with a smirk on his face. "It was fun—"

The moment was interrupted by a sudden pounding at Jim's front door. "Jim! I know you're in there! Open this door! Or so help me, I will I break it down myself!" Jim and Pam exchanged a glance, trying to stifle their amusement, and Jim went to open the door.

"Hey, Dwight."

"Don't play games with me, Jim!" He held up the 'blood'-covered glove and waved it around, "This is a bloody glove, and it was at the top of the stairs. Whose blood is this Jim? Whose is it?!"

"Woah, Dwight, I—"

"Who did you murder, Jim?! Where's the body??"

Jim put on a faux glare, "Dwight. I have never seen that glove before in my life. Now how do I know _you_ didn't murder someone?"

"What!!" Dwight stepped back, horrified by his allegation. "Jim, don't try and pin this on me—"

"I don't even need gloves. I'm a sportswriter. That looks like something a handyman would use… or maybe a _superintendent_…" He raised an eyebrow at Dwight and asked, "Now who exactly did you kill? Was it Melissa? Was it one of Angela's cats?!"

"No!"

"I know you don't like cats, Dwight. They don't provide milk or meat, isn't that right?"

"Uhh…"

"Or maybe you killed Creed! He's always hanging around, bringing down the reputation of this neighborhood. Maybe you off'ed him so you wouldn't have to deal with him anymore!"

Dwight snapped his head up and gave Jim a defiant stare, "Listen you! I didn't kill anyone! I know it was you! And when I find out whose blood this is, I will inform the authorities and have you arrested!"

Jim glanced back at Pam, who gave him a small wink, and so he began phase two of the prank, "Dwight, you know I'm not the _only_ one who lives on the third floor. He leaned in and whispered, "Someone _else_ could've dropped that glove…"

Dwight's accusatory scowl shifted from Jim to Pam, and this was her cue to act nervous. "Oh! Who, _me_? No—no way. You have got to be mistaken…"

"Is this your glove?" Dwight asked her. A breath of silence passed through the room before she answered.

"No…"

"I don't believe you!" he shouted and wrestled his keys out of his pocket. "I knew there was something devious about you! Where did you hide the body, Pam?!" He turned around and began unlocking the door to apartment 3B, against Pam's protests.

… … …

They sat in Pam's ransacked living room, tired and slaphappy from watching Dwight tear her apartment to shreds. They were in hysterics the entire time he was ripping up the place, but now they were silent, enjoying the satisfaction of a well-executed prank.

"That was so much fun," Pam told him as she looked at her immediate surroundings. "Even if he did make a mess of things."

"I can help you clean up if you want," Jim offered.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I'm actually going to spend the next couple nights at Roy's, so I don't care too much if my place is a mess."

"Oh, okay," Jim said softly as he sank even further into the couch. Try as he might, he couldn't quite hide his disappointment at the news. Even though they spent the past couple nights together, he felt as if he couldn't get enough of her.

She sensed his change in mood and offered up an explanation, "It's just, I haven't seen him in a while… and he is my boyfriend, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. No, I understand. Gotta… give him a little time." He forced a smile out at her and gave a deep sigh. "Well, I have a mess of my own to clean up from the poker game, so I'm gonna get going."

"Oh, right. Okay… I'll see you later then."

"Okay. See ya." She walked him to the door, and once he was gone she looked around her apartment. It looked atrocious, like a thief had broken in, but all she could think was that it was a wonderful reminder of _him_. She didn't care if it stayed a mess forever.

* * *

_Can I just say that I would totally do what Kelly did with the camera phone if I ever met JKras? If someone ever meets a celeb, try it and let me know if it works out._

_Also, if you're looking for some quality fics to read, go check out the newly-created "Finer Fics Club" in the Office section of the communities of this site. Or go to my profile and follow the link through there. That might be easier. Seriously though, there's some great stuff there. Trust me, I'm picky._

_Reviews are motivation!_


	5. Expectations

_A/N: here's another chapter, folks! This one is a little more angsty, but I promise if you hold on till the end it'll be worth it. It's also from Jim's POV, which should be refreshing. Hope I did an okay job with it. Please read, review, and enjoy!_

_Special thanks to guest beta, WildBerryJam, for her wonderful insight._

* * *

Before putting his key into the lock, Jim glanced back once again at her door. She was over at Roy's again tonight, and it made his blood boil. It wasn't just because right now they were probably tangled up in each other, being intimate and affectionate, but because he hated the silence the third floor had when she was gone. Usually he could hear her TV on or her talking with her mom on the phone, and it was a comfort to know she was there.

Now all he could hear was the echoes in the fluorescent corridor, and the jagged screeching of his key turning in the lock.

He sighed deeply and entered his apartment, pressing a button on the answering machine and getting himself a beer. He had already had several drinks starting early that evening, when the Sixers head coach explained that he wanted Jim to high-five the starting lineup before tip off. They were going to flash the lights and make a big production of it, and so Jim needed a little alcohol in him to help him feel less self-conscious.

They'd won, as it always was when he was in attendance, and so the coach told him he needed to start making the high-five thing a routine.

Cause that was what Jim needed. More publicity.

He took a long swig of his beer and listened to his dad cheering for him over the machine: "We saw you on TV! Keep it up and we'll be going to the finals! Great job, buddy!" He smiled at his dad's words, which if one didn't know better, sounded as if Jim had been out there playing instead of just being the good luck charm. But his face fell at the next voice he heard over the machine:

"Hey, it's me. I know there's a game tonight or something and you probably wouldn't be able to hear your cell phone, so I just thought I'd leave you a message here… Um, I wanted to let you know I'll be in town this weekend for a convention. I was thinking we could maybe get together for dinner? If you're not too busy, I'd love to hear from you. Here's my new number…"

Jim listened to the message two more times before copying down Karen's new cell phone number. He felt frustrated that he couldn't gauge from her message whether she wanted to go out as friends or as something more. But after listening to it for two more times, he decided he didn't care. He thought about Pam being out, and told himself he had just as much power as she did to make their hallway silent.

He sighed, picking up the phone and punching in the numbers with the New York area code. He sucked in another breath just in time for her to answer his call. "Hey, Karen?... I'm good, how about you?... Yeah I did. I'd love to go to dinner… Friday? Okay…"

… … …

Pam was ecstatic. These were the best invitations she had ever designed, and the finished product looked even better than it did on her computer screen. She was beaming as she fished the postcard for the Reverberations Preview Party out of her mailbox, overwhelmed with pride in her work. She couldn't wait to show Jim.

After their prank on Tuesday, she hadn't seen him much. He was out at games and she had spent a couple nights at Roy's, but she knew he'd probably be around this weekend to hang out with. She admitted she was more excited than she should've been to see him, but she had had a rough week and needed something to be excited about.

Her time at Roy's did not go well. The first night she was there he ended up working the late shift at the construction site, and so she had sat in his tiny studio apartment alone all evening waiting for him to come home.

_Like a puppy waiting for their master_, she thought to herself as she walked up the stairs. _How demeaning._

The next night she had simply offered to treat him to dinner, but he was too self-righteous to let her, and so they ended up having a screaming match. The only reason they made up was because there was no other place for her to sleep besides his bed, and there was no way she was coming back to her own messy place that late at night.

In the morning he made her chocolate chip pancakes and said he was sorry, and she forgave him, like always.

She pondered her invitation to the party, and knew Roy wouldn't be up for going to it. She could hear him now, saying how this party was just another confirmation of how Pam was "too good" for him now, and how he wouldn't be able to appreciate the art anyway.

Roy was always making excuses for himself.

She let herself forget her troubles for the moment as she approached Jim's door. She was excited to show him a piece of evidence of the work she did, and even considered taking _him_ to the party. She knew she couldn't show up without a date, and she certainly thought he would be a better choice than Roy, and so she resolved to ask him about it that weekend.

She was surprised, however, by an exotically beautiful woman answering the door.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked in a soft and resonant tone.

Pam stammered, "Sorry. Is Jim around?"

"Uh, he's in the bathroom…"

"Oh. That's okay. I'm his neighbor. I just… I needed to talk to him about something. But it's no big deal. I'll catch him later."

"Okay," the woman gave a soft smile and started to close the door before adding, "It was nice meeting you."

She watched the door shut on her and said softly and hesitantly, "Yeah… you too."

… … …

"Who was that?" Jim asked as he came out of his bedroom, fiddling with his tie.

"Oh, just your neighbor. She said she needed to talk to you about something, but it didn't seem important…" Karen smiled, walking over to him and helping him with his collar, "See? You look much better."

"Much more appropriate for Le Bec-Fin."

She grinned at him, "Well, not that Monk's isn't good, but I'm really in the mood for something a little nicer. Plus, I'm only in Philly for the weekend; who knows when I'll be able to have grilled hamachi again?"

"I thought New York had everything," Jim quipped back.

Her smile grew larger, signaling to him that she didn't catch the bitterness in his voice, "Not the way Chef George makes it. Come on."

… … …

Jim hadn't been to Le Bec-Fin since he and Karen celebrated their one-year anniversary. He thought he had been so debonair in taking her to one of the most extravagant restaurants in town, and did admit that it was probably the best meal he ever ate in his life. But something about that night made him realize that the man he was trying to be for her wasn't who he actually was. Looking back on their relationship, he pegged that event as the turning point.

After that, he began to notice whenever she made fun of his floppy, "homeless hair", or how she'd complain if he wanted to stay in and watch TV instead of take her to a movie. It wasn't that he didn't like doing what she wanted to do; she just expected these grand gestures of love all the time, and he simply didn't have the energy for that.

When she told him she had gotten a promotion in her company and would be moving to New York, Jim was actually relieved. She asked him if he would move with her, but he said no and made up some excuse about how he couldn't start writing about other sports teams. But in reality, he knew the relationship had just run its course and that they wanted different things.

Now, sitting across from her under the same chandeliered lighting as they had sat when they were happy and together, he realized that the _thing_ he had broken up with Karen for was finally real and identifiable.

_Pam._

"So, I saw you on ESPN randomly," Karen jerked him away from his thoughts and he looked up from his menu at her.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I was flipping around the channels and I saw some guys debating over if you were really good luck or not."

"Oh, that was probably _Pardon The Interruption_. I heard I was mentioned there once."

She smiled softly at him, "It must be great being so famous." Jim shrugged at her comment, and so she continued on, "I mean, this afternoon at the convention, some guy randomly called out my name from one of the booths… It made me feel so cool and important."

"Well, you basically turned that company around, didn't you?" Jim inquired.

"I guess you could say that," she said casually, but with a hint of pride. "I mean, we were _technically_ a failing paper company until I came along and came up with the brilliant idea of custom letter stock, made directly at the paper mills and shipped to the clients from…" she stopped herself when Jim began fake-yawning. "Alright. Hardy har har, paper is boring. I get it."

"Paper? I thought you sold mufflers."

"Jim—"

"Or muffins?"

"Jim."

"Or is it mittens?"

Karen folded her arms, "Go ahead, make fun, but in a few years Dunder Mifflin will be able to compete with the nationwide chains. All thanks to me." They exchanged a small grin, knowing they were just joking with each other, and continued to make polite conversation.

… … …

"Thank you so much for taking me to dinner," Karen smiled at him as he pulled into the paring lot of the rowhouse. He could see Pam sitting out on the terrace with a mug in her hand, but tried to ignore her.

He grinned back at Karen, "Of course, it was my pleasure. Especially when we split the bill."

"It was really, so great to see you…" she trailed off as she stroked his arm gently with the tips of her fingers. She flashed him a suggestive smile, which made his eyes widen in bewilderment.

He wondered how she could've possibly misconstrued their dinner as a way to reignite their flame, and felt so awkward in his own body that he could suddenly feel every constraint. His tie seemed to be choking him, straining his breath, and his shoes felt about three sizes too small. He then remembered that it was _her_ who had insisted on dressing up and going somewhere much too stuffy for his tastes, and he realized then that she was still trying to make him into someone he wasn't.

She kept her eyes fixated on him, trying to read his expression, and suggested, "Do you wanna… invite me up for coffee? Or…"

"Karen—"

"It's not like my convention is summer camp or anything. There's no roll call. No one would care if I didn't show up for the continental breakfast tomorrow morning—"

"Karen. No. I'm sorry."

Her face shifted quickly from playful to annoyed. "Oh, you're _sorry_?" she said in that same sarcastic tone she would use to joke with him. It made him nervous that her inflections were the same whether she was humorous or livid. "What the _hell_ were you thinking then? Accepting my invitation to dinner and then just—Do you even think this stuff through?" He could only shrug in response, which seemed to make her angrier. "I should've known something like this would happen. You seriously need to learn some responsibility for your actions, and fast."

She quickly made her way out of his car, slamming the door behind her, and toward her own, and it took him a moment to realize he should be making some attempt to follow her. After all, now they were exposed to Pam and the rest of the world; he had to come off looking like a good guy.

He caught up to her at her car, and she was so enraged that she fumbled with her keys, which he was thankful for. He put a hand on her shoulder and said in a comforting tone, "Karen, please—"

"Get your hands off me," was her reply, much more composed than he had expected her to be. He obeyed her command, withdrawing his hand slowly, and finally she turned around to face him. Her expression was stern, but her eyes were full of sadness, "I really thought we were somethin', ya know that? You always tried so hard, but I guess… at some point, trying just doesn't cut it." She blinked away the melancholy from her eyes and told him firmly, "I hope you find someone who doesn't expect the most of you, like I did."

Her backhanded compliment stung him, once again digging at his laziness, childishness, or whatever else she could think of to criticize him with. But he didn't feel like fighting that war again, and so he accepted it and nodded his head. She sighed at him and got in her car, and as soon as she was out of the parking lot, his head involuntarily turned to the terrace. Pam was still there, and he could see she was willing herself not to watch him.

The sight of her made his heart full; he knew _her_ expectations of him suited him just fine.

… … …

"Hey," he said, peering out onto the terrace from the doorway.

"Oh, hi," Pam responded, sitting up straight in her chair and rubbing her arms like she was cold.

He stepped out onto the terrace and asked, "Mind if I join you?" She shook her head and so he seated himself in the chair next to her and let out a deep sigh. The tension in the air was palpable, and so he decided to break it, "That—was my ex. The one who moved to New York—"

"Oh, is she here visiting?"

"Yeah, for a convention."

"That's nice that you got to see her," she said mechanically, still keeping her eyes fixated on the cars whizzing by. "She's very beautiful. Looks very professional too."

He chuckled, "Yeah, she's always had that corporate look. Her promotion was just the missing piece of the puzzle." They settled into an awkward silence, both wondering if they should bring up the inevitable topic of the scene that played out in the parking lot not five minutes earlier. Jim resolved again to be the one to do it, "But uh, if you're wondering why she seemed kind of mad—"

"Oh no, you don't need to—"

"No, it's okay, um… She just, apparently thought that there was still something between us, and it was a little awkward when I told her there wasn't."

"Oh…"

"Yeah, that's just so you know," he smiled reassuringly at her, and then caught himself, "You know, not that… my current romantic life is any business of yours—"

"Actually," Pam said, springing up from her chair and heading toward the door, "It kind of is." He gave her a puzzled look, trying to contain his curiosity of what she meant, as she smiled and signaled to him to wait while she went inside. She reappeared a few minutes later with the postcard she had designed and handed it to him, "A sample of my work."

"You designed this?" Pam nodded her head, and Jim looked back down at the postcard in his hands, "Wow, this is really great. I love the colors."

She sat back down and beamed at him, "They're inspired by the exhibit, the one the Preview Party is for…"

"Oh yeah," he realized, looking closer at the invitation, "'Reverberations'… sounds cool."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, looking out into the night sky and then back at her neighbor, who was studying the card intently. She took in a deep breath, as if she was inhaling courage, and asked, "You wouldn't want to go with me, would you?"

"To the party?" Jim fixated his gaze on her and tried to keep his smile as indifferent as possible.

"Yeah. I mean, I'd ask Roy, but he hates them. He's been to a few and always just sulks in the corner or asks me if we can leave early. He doesn't even make an attempt to look at the art…"

Jim knitted his brows together in skepticism, "Which, correct me if I'm wrong, is the whole point of an art exhibit, right?"

"Right," she laughed at his contemplative expression. "So… would you be my date?"

He practically had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wildly. The word 'date' had nearly knocked him off his feet, and he knew if that was what she'd be calling it, he would have to milk it for all it was worth.

"Absolutely," he replied, without a trace of hesitation.

* * *

_I know several of you want Roy out of the picture, like _right now,_ but just trust me when I tell you I have a master plan. Plus, isn't it much more fun this way? ;)  
_


	6. Anticipation

_A/N: so, hey, for those who read my oneshot from a couple hours ago... writer's block cured! Heh. Seriously though, I agonized over this chapter, wanting to make it perfect for you people, and with a little beta magic from EmilyHalpert and a little encouragement from Bears Eat Beets, I was able to produce something I'm really happy with. I hope you like it too. Enjoy!_

* * *

A week passed by in no time, and before long it was the day of the Preview Party. Pam had barely seen Roy in the past week, and frankly, that was fine with her. She didn't quite know how to tell him she wasn't inviting him to the party, and not only that, but had invited another man in his place. Roy didn't often get jealous, but when he did he became very controlling, and because of that she hadn't told him.

She had wanted to of course, and vowed to call him the very next morning after she had asked Jim to go with her. She even had the phone in her hand and was dialing the number when she realized that she was just looking for trouble. Even if she swore to Roy that she and Jim were just friends, there would be no way he'd believe it, and so she instead put the phone back down, wondering if she needed to tell him at all.

She vowed to herself she would tell him if _he_ called _her_. Otherwise, she didn't need to bother.

He didn't call though. She didn't hear from him all weekend, and was actually quite relieved. And instead of calling him, she had spent all Saturday watching movies over at Jim's. They both had the same taste in movies, and so a day of films like _Dazed and Confused_ and _The Princess Bride _suited her just fine. And a couple days later they managed to pull another prank on Dwight by suspending his socket wrench in Jell-O. He told them he'd sue them both for damage to his property, but they had yet to see a formal indictment against them.

Now with the party countdown well underway, Pam was having a hard time concentrating on her work, nervous for the night to come. She had been getting signals from Jim that he _was_ interested in her, and so far she had been trying to ignore or deny his flirtation. But the more they hung out, the more difficult it had become to deny that her feelings for him were reciprocal, which just made her situation more torturous.

And although it was tough on her, she knew it also wasn't fair to keep stringing along Jim, or Roy, while she made her decision. So with their first date only hours away, Pam needed to make up her mind, and fast.

"Hey, Pam," a soft knock at the door drew her away from her thoughts.

"Hey, Toby. What's up?"

He stepped inside the doorway and handed her a sheet of paper, "Here is the list of the members of the Chairman's Circle—"

"Oh, thank you," she said, glancing at the paper for a moment as she gestured to him to sit. "I can't believe Ryan thinks he's going to schmooze these people at the party with a private tour of the collection. I'd see right through that."

Toby shrugged, "Eh, the rich only see what they want to see."

"Very true."

"So, about the party…" he started in, nervously playing with his hands.

"Yeah?" she asked, her attention focused on the sheet of paper in front of her.

"Are you bringing that guy you're dating?"

She looked up at him with a somewhat unnerved expression, "Roy?"

"The one who thought Jackson Pollock was a mentally challenged Polish guy?"

Pam winced; embarrassed by the last debacle of a party she had brought Roy to. "Um, no, I'm not bringing him—"

Toby cleared his throat, his anxiousness much more apparent now, "Great. Well, I mean, not great, but great cause maybe I thought you and _I_ could go together…"

"Oh. No, um…" she stammered, not quite believing what she had just heard. She and Toby had always been friends, but she had never thought of him as someone she would date. The fact that he was much older than she was unappealing, not to mention that he came with a lot of emotional baggage, only made worse by his impending divorce.

She had never realized he saw her in _that_ way, and she wanted to let him down gently, trying to save their friendship in the process. "That's very sweet," she said, looking at him thoughtfully, and took in a deep breath, "But… I already invited someone else."

"Oh."

She saw the hurt look on his face and knew she had to do something to save his dignity. After all, she _would_ go with him to one of these events, just not in the way he probably hoped. She continued, "I'm really sorry. You know I'd go with you because we're good friends—"

Toby looked down and started nervously playing with his tie, "Friends."

"Yeah," she affirmed, needing to get the message across that she wasn't interested in him romantically. But as she contemplated the possible explanation for her rejection, she couldn't help but mention someone she _was_ interested in romantically, "But I just, um… I've been telling my neighbor about the exhibit, and when I showed him the invitation he thought it would be really cool, so…"

"Right. Of course."

"Maybe next time though…" She trailed off, and luckily she was saved by the ring of her phone. "PAFA Website Management, this is Pam… Hey Oscar… What? Okay, okay, hold on a sec—Toby, I have to run over to the gallery. Oscar's having a crisis with the party planner—"

"Oh. Alright. See you later then," he said in a tone slightly more downtrodden than normal as he slinked to the doorway.

She smiled at him softly, hoping she hadn't caused any permanent damage to his self-esteem, "Okay, see you later…" He disappeared into the hallway and she let out a sigh of relief, then said into the phone, "I'll be right there Oscar… Bye." Pam put the phone down and dashed out of her office to the gallery next door, where she found Oscar and Angela waiting for her with scowls on their faces.

"Hey Oscar… Hi Angela," she said as she approached them.

"Pam, please talk some sense into your coworker."

"She asked specifically for you," Oscar explained. "How do you two know each other?"

"She's my neighbor," she said impatiently before turning to the petite blonde, "What's the problem, Angela?"

"This is a gallery of refinement and dignity, is it not?"

Pam and Oscar traded a look of confusion before she answered, "…It is."

"So why is Oscar suggesting that we play hedonistic music at the party?" Angela demanded, crossing her arms and arching her eyebrow.

"Just because it isn't Bill and Gloria Gaither doesn't make it hedonistic," Oscar retorted, shooting his own death glare at Angela.

Seeing the anger levels rising quickly, Pam realized she needed the full story, and so she asked, "Oscar, what music did you suggest?"

"Sinful and unnatural music," Angela scoffed.

"My first round of suggestions was stuff people could dance to, like the B-52's—"

Pam turned to Angela, "What do you have against the B-52's?"

"They're promiscuous, obviously. Their lyrics are filthy," she shook her head at the two of them. "It encourages immoral behavior."

Oscar continued, "Then I suggested something more mellow, like Nick Drake—"

"Pam," Angela interrupted, "The man's music is inspired by _marijuana_."

Pam looked helplessly at Oscar to continue his story, and so he sighed and told her, "And finally I asked her who _she_ thought would be acceptable to play, and do you know who she said? Guy Penrod."

"Angela," Pam turned to her neighbor, "Were you in charge of music for the city events?"

"No, that hussy Denise Stimm was always in change of the music. Her picks were even worse than Oscar's."

"Okay…" Pam sighed, "Is there a way we can come to some sort of compromise? Something maybe not rock but not Christian music either?"

"The only artist I especially like who does secular music is Harry Connick Jr.," Angela explained, her arms still folded and her nose stuck high in the air.

Pam nodded her head, "Okay, jazzy stuff. I think that's acceptable, people can still dance to it... What do you think, Oscar?"

"Fine," Oscar said bitterly.

"Okay. Good," she let out a heavy sigh. "Glad that's settled."

A man in a delivery uniform came up to Angela and asked her to sign for some serving plates, and so Oscar took the opportunity to steal Pam away for a moment. "Sorry to drag you away from your work," he whispered to her apologetically.

"It's okay," she told him, remembering her awkward conversation with Toby just before he had called. "I needed a break anyway."

"Well... thanks."

"No problem," she smiled at him and told him, "See ya later." He made a small wave as she made her way toward the doors of the gallery and outside, headed back next door to her office. She had just made it to the hallway when she heard someone call her name.

"Pam, can you come in here please?"

She backed up a few steps and saw Ryan smiling at her from behind the desk of his corner office. She approached the doorway and he motioned to her to have a seat. "What is it, Ryan?" she asked cautiously.

Ryan leaned forward in his chair, "Pam, you know some very important people are coming to this party tonight…"

"Yes…"

"And as the man in charge, I need to come across looking flawless. Someone who these patrons would want to give money to."

"Right."

He smirked at her, "And how can I do that without a lovely and attractive woman by my side?"

Pam couldn't believe her ears, and wondered just how desperate the guys in her office were to have this done twice to her in one day. Her eyes instantly widened and she stammered, "Oh, Ryan, no. I already have a date—"

"What?" Ryan asked in surprise. "No! Not you, Pam. I mean, no offense, it's just—I need someone a little more fashionable, you know?"

She looked down and studied her plain pink sweater and brown skirt, rethinking the fact that this was one of her dressier outfits. "Oh," was all she could muster in response.

"And feminine," Ryan added with a grin. "These types appreciate a man and woman who know their traditional roles."

"Of course…" Pam said, rolling her eyes.

"Do you think you could set me up with one of your friends?"

"What?" she exclaimed as she stared at him in shock.

"Just someone with… you know, unparalleled natural beauty but also looks put-together," he leaned back in his chair, his arms motioning to an invisible girl off in the distance. "Someone who is bubbly and charming… able to win over the hearts of our patrons."

"Bubbly and charming…" Pam repeated to herself, a devious smile forming on her lips. "I think I could do that…"

"Don't think," Ryan reminded her. "Just do."

"Right."

"You're a peach, Pam. Just tell the lucky girl to meet me outside the gallery at nine." He leaned forward again and extended his hand to her.

"I can do that," she said as they shook on their agreement.

"Great. Get to it!" He shooed her out of his office, and she headed back down the hallway to her own, a brilliant prank taking shape in her head. She sat back down at her desk and was digging through her purse for her cell phone when she heard it ringing underneath her makeup bag.

Not recognizing the number on the screen, she made sure to answer casually, "Hello?"

"Hey," a slightly gravelly, yet soothing voice said through the receiver.

"Oh, hi!" she responded, her face immediately brightening. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know…" Jim trailed off, and she could almost picture him sitting at his desk. "My editor is just bugging me to no end."

"Important deadline coming up?"

"I wish. One day you will just have to meet Michael Scott, and then you will understand."

Pam bit her lip, "You're scaring me a little…"

"Oh, you should be scared," he retorted back, his timing impeccable, and he could hear her stifling a laugh.

"So what's up?" she asked as she regained composure.

"Well," he leaned back in his chair. "I have a couple of questions about this _date_ tonight—"

"Okay..." she grinned wildly again, and then had a realization. "Wait, you're calling me _now_ with questions? When the party is only _hours_ away?"

"What can I say? I'm a procrastinator," he replied, which got another laugh out of her.

"Alright, what are your questions?"

"First," he said in his most serious tone, "Should I get you a corsage?"

"What! This isn't prom!" she exclaimed.

"Well I've never been to one of these things before and I want to get it right," he said, matter-of-factly. "Plus, I didn't go to prom either, so…"

Pam expression changed to one of severe disbelief, "You didn't go to prom?"

"If you saw my high school yearbook photo, you'd understand why," he told her in a mockingly grave tone.

"You'll have to show me sometime," she giggled.

"I suppose I will," he smiled, excited that she was laughing at all his jokes. "So no corsage?"

"No."

"What about dinner then?" he asked innocently.

"What about dinner?" she repeated his question flirtatiously, and then bit her tongue.

"Are we going to dinner before? Or did Angela hire a fancy caterer to cook up some hors d'oeuvres?"

She sat back in her chair and thought for a moment, "I think they're having a chocolate fountain, but that certainly doesn't count as dinner."

"Oh, definitely not."

"I guess we'll just have to go get dinner somewhere…" she told him, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, and wondered to herself why she was being this way around him. It felt almost wrong, like suggesting dinner was somehow an affirmation of what she had been denying to herself, but for some reason she couldn't stop it.

"I guess we will," he replied, and she swore she could hear his smile through the phone.

"Did you have any places in mind?"

"I had a couple," he told her in that same coy tone of voice, which sent chills down her spine.

"Do I get to hear what they are?"

"Oh you know… Alma de Cuba, LaCroix, Bookbinder's…" he said offhandedly, trying to sound like he hadn't been thinking constantly for the past week about where to take her.

"Alma de Cuba is really good," she told him. "Their chocolate cigar dessert is _so_ delicious."

"Okay. Why don't we just go there and only order that, and make our night filled with chocolate?"

"Sounds good to me!" Pam laughed into the phone.

"Actually," Jim said seriously. "I was leaning toward Bookbinder's."

"I've never actually been there."

"Then that settles it. We're going there."

"Okay," she agreed softly, her heartbeat quickening rapidly.

"But… we can go to Alma de Cuba next time though. I promise," he told her in a slight quivering tone, knowing he was being bold.

"Alright…" she consented, as the phrase 'next time' consumed her mind. She contemplated whether he was talking about the next time they went out on a date, or the next time they were going to a party, or just the next time they were hanging out together. Whatever it was, she couldn't help but think about how he had talked about the future a lot in this phone conversation. He even told her he wanted her to meet his boss! And so she began to wonder if he was already planning 'next time' when there hadn't even been a 'first time' yet.

Before her thoughts wandered too far, she remembered he was still on the line, and so she inquired, "So is there anything else you wanted to ask?"

"Yeah, um, how dressy are these things?" he asked nervously.

"Maybe… semi-formal? I'm wearing this periwinkle dress I wore in my cousin's wedding."

"Alright then, so something to match an ugly bridesmaid's dress. I read you loud and clear," he chuckled into the receiver, and heard her laughing on the other end. "Oh, just one more thing," he added.

"Sure."

He tried to conceal the happiness in his voice, but failed miserably, "When should I make our reservation for?"

"Seven-thirty?"

"Sounds good."

"Okay," she replied, and he swore he could hear the joy in her voice as well.

"Okay. Later, Beesly."

"Bye Jim," she hung up the phone and slumped forward on her desk, exhausted from trying to interpret everything he'd said. The pressure looming over their night now seemed immense. Not only would he be meeting all her coworkers, but they would be going to dinner as well, and probably dancing to some Harry Connick Jr. too. Pam rubbed her eyes and decided not to worry about it for now though. For now, she would only worry about finding Ryan the perfect date.

She flipped open her phone again, the devious smile returning to her face, and pressed number six on the speed dial. After a few rings, she said into the phone, "Hey Kelly… What are you up to tonight?..."

… … …

Jim let out a deep breath as he checked himself one more time in the bathroom mirror. Even though he knew they were only going out as friends, he couldn't seem to silence the small part of his brain that was screaming at him that Pam had feelings for him. He was convinced the way she looked at him when he said something thoughtful or how close she had sat next to him on his couch when they were watching movies meant something. But as much as the evidence pointed toward their mutual feelings for each other, he had to shrug it off and not get his hopes too high.

He stepped out of the hallway, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, and locked his door. As if he was clearing his anxiety away, he softly cleared his throat and knocked on her door. "Just a second!" he heard her yell, and he was powerless to stop the smile forming on his lips.

He was still grinning when she opened the door, but his expression quickly changed from a goofy smile to a look of awe. She was breathtaking. The bridesmaid's dress she had mentioned earlier on the phone was much nicer than he had imagined, and it made her look radiant. He could also tell she had spent quite a lot of time on her hair, and he was overjoyed by the fact that she had done it all for him.

"Hi," she said, biting her bottom lip.

"Uh, hi," he responded, and then remembered the bouquet in his hand. "Oh, uh, these are for you—"

"Oh, wow. Thank you," she beamed as she took them from him and walked into her kitchen. He stepped inside and watched her get a vase from a high cabinet, and then realized he was staring again, so he quickly averted his eyes.

"Yeah, uh, even though you vetoed a corsage, I still wanted to bring you something, so…"

She smiled at him as she arranged them in the vase, "They're beautiful. I love lilacs."

"Good," he beamed at her, and she returned his gaze with an equally affectionate look. "Uh, so, ready to go? Don't wanna… miss our reservation or anything…"

"Right," she chuckled nervously, grabbing her purse. "Well, I'm ready when you are…"

"Okay," he smiled. "Let's go."

* * *

_Next chapter is the date. I swear to you people. Please don't hate me for stringing you along...?_


	7. The Night

_A/N: I am so effing excited for you all to read this chapter. Seriously, even you hard-headed readers, get ready to squee your ass off! Don't say I didn't warn you either. Now just, go read. Go!!_

_A million thanks to EmilyHalpert for the beta and the encouragement. Now go read! Seriously!!_

* * *

They drove to Bookbinder's in a stiff silence. The energy in the air was palpable, and Jim was sure he wasn't the only one who sensed it. Every so often he would catch Pam glancing at him from across the car, a look on her face that would cause feelings of restlessness inside him. He knew now he wasn't imagining their mutual attraction, yet he couldn't help but wonder why she was still with Roy.

He grappled with the conundrum the entire drive there, and eventually made up his mind that even if she was still dating Roy, she at least had asked _him_ out for tonight. And if that was all he got, well, then he would soak up every moment of it. Tonight would always be theirs.

Jim pulled into a parking spot and they headed inside restaurant. Once they were seated, they began to make small talk, the tension between them intense. Both were scared to bring up their magnetism to each other, so the conversation stayed light, dancing around what they were both afraid to say.

"Um, so I've started reading your articles," Pam said as she fidgeted with the silverware in front of her.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, they're really good," she told him genuinely, smiling. "I especially like the way you analyze games… I mean, I don't really watch sports, but the way you talk about it, so devotedly, makes me want to sit through one sometime."

"Well thanks," Jim blushed, looking down at his menu. "It's not every day I actually get praised for my writing."

She gave him a nod in understanding, "Well you should. You're more than just a lucky charm; you're a fantastic writer. And if the luck wears off, that is really something amazing to have left."

Jim watched as she looked down at her menu, embarrassed by how openly she had just spoken, and it made his heart wrench. How agonizing to want to just grab her hand or kiss her, and yet to be so restrained, not only by her oaf of a boyfriend, but because they had set up the boundary of friendship. Boyfriend or not, Pam was the kind of girl who would want to maintain those barriers at all costs, and so once again, he felt defeated.

"You know," he began, an artificial smile masking his misery, "Every Sixers fan is going to be really mad I'm not at the game tonight."

"Oh my gosh," she gasped softly, "You had a game tonight?"

"It's fine," he brushed it off and gave her a small shrug. "I got Phyllis to cover for me. My job's not my life; so what if people don't understand that. Plus, with the team's record right now, I can afford to miss a game."

"Alright…" Pam said hesitantly. "But are you sure your crazy boss with be okay with it?"

He took in a deep breath as he contemplated her question, and then responded, "Eh, probably not." She smiled brightly at him as a waiter came to take their order, and they continued their cheerful conversation until well after the check arrived. Both found it so easy to talk with the other, as though they had been doing it for years instead of weeks. And both couldn't help but think _this_ is what every day would be like if they were together.

… … …

They could hear the light sounds of Harry Connick Jr. outside as Pam helped the security guard find her name on the guest list. They were admitted in and were immediately astounded by what they saw: Angela had transformed their gallery into a stylish club, with bunches of sophisticatedly colored balloons and high tables placed strategically for people to lean on as they admired the art. They exchanged a glance and gave a small nod to each other in approval; there was a reason why Angela was so acclaimed for what she did.

"There she is," Pam pointed out the small woman by the bar ordering a water. "Wanna go say hi?"

"Uhh… really?"

She gave him a disapproving look, "Come on, we'll probably run into her sometime tonight. We may as well go over there now and get it over with."

"Alright," Jim conceded, and so they began to make their way over to the bar. But they stopped in their tracks when they saw a tall, extremely overdressed man walk up and start talking to her. "Is that…?" Jim began to ask, his eyes squinting to see.

"I think it is," Pam replied in a horrified tone. "Do you think that Angela…?"

"Absolutely I do," he said, nodding his head gravely. "Well, there's no way I'm going over there now—"

Pam grabbed his arm as he began to turn in the opposite direction, "Oh, come on ya big baby…" she said as she yanked him in the direction of the bar. Admitting defeat, he gave in and casually walked with her up to the strange couple, who both frowned at them in disapproval. "Hi Angela… Dwight," Pam smiled at them, not receiving a smile in return.

"Pam," Angela nodded curtly.

"Hey Angela, the place looks great," Jim told her, to which she only responded with the slightest hint of a grin.

"Thank you."

"And Dwight…" Jim studied his tux. "Uh, just one question: how long is the wait for a table for two?"

Dwight glared at him, "I would never, ever serve you. Not in a million, billion years."

"Then what would you call fixing my garbage disposal last week?" Jim smirked.

"That was serving the landlord!"

"But it was in my apartment—"

"Which you don't own!"

"Okay, hey! Dwight!" Pam shouted, drawing them away from their argument. "It's… it's a nice tux."

"I know," Dwight told her in a prideful tone as he tugged on the lapels. "It belonged to my grandfather. He was buried in it, so… family heirloom."

Jim and Pam exchanged a wide-eyed glance at each other before Angela and Dwight excused themselves to go mingle. "So… I think I need a drink after that," Jim sighed heavily. "What do ya say? Drink?"

"Definitely," Pam agreed, still shell-shocked. "A big one." Jim had just finished ordering when they heard a loud screech come from across the room.

"Ohmygod! Paaam!! Hiii!!" Kelly squealed and waved at them. She was standing with Ryan and a group of older couples, who Pam assumed were patrons, and she hoped her boss wasn't too upset with her. "That's my friend Pam. She works here," Kelly told a couple of ladies standing next to her, and then waved again, "Come on over!!"

Pam looked helplessly over at Jim, who was deliberately turned away, and so she sighed and left him at the bar to greet her friend. "How are you?" she asked Kelly sincerely. "How's your blind date going?"

"Oh you know, Ryan's the big-time executive or whatever so he's really busy with all the rich dudes, but I'm having a lot of fun with their wives! Aren't we having fun, ladies?"

"Absolutely, Kelly!" the woman donned in a forest green dress agreed.

"She is like a breath of fresh air!" the other one wearing a navy dress and mink stole told Pam, who could only nod her head in delighted surprise.

"And speaking of fresh," Kelly said, "Bea, fur is _so_ out right now. The little creatures you should be hauling around should be puppies in purses, not dead rodents around your neck."

Pam's eyes widened as the woman in the navy dress touched the soft fur of her stole in shock. She wondered if Kelly realized insulting the patrons was not going to get the gallery any money. Where was her sense of modesty? Pam was sure of one thing though, and that was that she didn't need to worry about showing up to work on Monday, because she would be fired for sure.

The woman in navy unwrapped the stole from her neck and handed it over to Kelly in a flourish. "You are so right. It's too hot for this thing anyway. Kelly, thank you for being so honest. Do you do personal styling?"

"Absolutely! You should come by my shop sometime!..." Kelly began, but that was all Pam heard because she was sure she had blacked out or hallucinated the whole thing. She even started to think she wouldn't lose her job after all, but she was shaken from her trance when Ryan and a couple older gentlemen approached them.

"Ladies, how are we all doing?" Ryan asked in a condescending tone of voice. "Oh, Phil, Al, this is Pam. She runs our website."

"Nice to meet you," she said as she shook their hands one by one.

The taller of the two addressed her, "So, are you also the girl that set Ryan up with this gem of a woman?" He motioned to Kelly, who was beaming with pride.

"Oh stop it Al!" she giggled.

Pam smiled nervously and replied, "Yes, that was me, sir."

"Wonderful!" Phil exclaimed as Ryan pulled Pam away from the group, Phil continuing his train of thought, "You know who she reminds me of, Bea? Margaret, down at the country club…"

"You think you're very funny, don't you?" Ryan hissed as soon as the group was out of earshot, his hand clasping her arm forcefully.

"Ryan, I—"

"Well you are _very_ lucky that these people somehow seem to like her. _Extremely_ lucky. Do you hear me?"

"Yes Ryan."

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Pam squirmed under Ryan's tight grip, "Ryan, I just thought… um…" But she was saved when she caught Jim's eye from across the room. Her eyes pleaded with him to help her, and so he excused himself from the couple he was talking to and rushed over.

Ryan immediately loosened his grasp as he saw the lanky man heading toward them, looking cool and collected but his fists clenched in rage. Jim walked straight up to them and towered over her boss. "Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Jim—" he stuck out his hand and Ryan nervously shook it.

"Ryan Howard. Pam's boss."

Jim shot a protective look over at Pam, who had regained her composure and was able to give him a soft smile letting him know she was okay, and so he turned back to Ryan, "Oh, like the baseball player."

"Right," Ryan chuckled. "I'm older than him by a few months though."

"Interesting," Jim replied, glancing again at his date, who was warning him with her eyes not to do anything to her boss. He gave her a small nod and turned back to Ryan, "Well, it was good to meet you. Pam, can I interest you in a dance?"

"Um, okay," she beamed, realizing he was getting her out of trouble for now. "We'll talk later Ryan, okay?"

"Count on it," he told her as Jim dragged her away and Ryan went back to his guests.

She breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand on his arm, "Thank you so much, he was totally about to kick my ass."

"I could see that," he responded seriously. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, Jim, yeah," she smiled. "I mean, was I really going to let _Ryan_ do me any physical harm? I was just worried about losing my job."

He stared at her skeptically, wanting her to admit otherwise, but she gave him a convincing look back for him not to worry about it. "Alright," he conceded, "But if you ever need me to punch his lights out—"

"You'd need to get in line," Pam finished his sentence with a giggle, which lightened the mood between them.

"So are we dancing or what?" he asked as he extended his hand.

"Oh, no no no…" she waved her arms and backed away, "I'm such a dorky dancer."

"Aw, come on," Jim protested, reaching for her hand as the track changed to Harry Connick Jr.'s "I Only Have Eyes For You". Jim stuck out his hand a little further, "It's a slow one now. We barely have to dance. It'll be like, swaying."

"Swaying isn't dancing," she retorted with a smirk.

He grinned back at her and replied coolly, "Then you won't look dorky." Pam scrunched up her face, knowing her logic had been defeated, and finally gave in.

She took his hand and he led her out onto the dance floor, wrapping his arms gently around her waist as she put her hands on his shoulders. She sighed into his embrace and they swayed slowly to the lingering melody and smooth voice of Harry Connick Jr., the lyrics lending a hand to the feeling of the night.

_Are the stars out tonight?  
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright,  
'__Cause I only have eyes for you, dear.  
The moon may be high,  
But I can't see a thing in the sky,  
'__Cause I only have eyes for you…_

The room seemed to disappear as they danced, the chatter of conversation fading against the mellow tune of the song. Jim swore that if he closed his eyes, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world, and that tonight, the only thing that mattered was them. He was so lost in his daydream that he barely even noticed when the song ended.

"Jim—" he heard Pam whisper softly. He opened his eyes to find her pulling away from him, a smirk on her face. "The song's over."

"Yeah, are ya deaf, Halpert?" he heard Dwight sneer next to him as he danced an acceptable distance away from Angela.

"What's that Dwight?" Jim leaned in toward them and cupped his ear with his hand. "Did you say, 'Do you want me to plot your _death_?'"

"No!—"

"Cause that's a pretty odd request, but if you want me to…"

"Jim! I know you're faking!"

"Your heart is _breaking_?"

"Stop acting like an idiot!"

"Angela, are you breaking his heart?"

"_No!_" Angela was quick to respond.

Pam smirked, wise to his game, "Jim, do you think you need a hearing aid?"

"Do I want some _lemonade_?" he shouted back, causing Dwight to get fed up and storm off, leaving Angela behind. She glared at the two of them and ran a few steps behind her date, to which Jim and Pam responded by congratulating each other on a well-executed impromptu prank, bowing and curtsying respectively.

… … …

"Well, that was simply an awful time," Jim said sarcastically as they climbed the steps to their floor. "I really just… didn't have any fun at all."

Pam giggled at him, "Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely. Dinner was nauseating, and the art?" Jim scoffed in fake disapproval as she smacked his arm playfully. "And then on top of everything else I had to see Dwight there—"

"Then why'd you agree to go with me in the first place?" she asked as she unlocked her door.

"Oh, out of pity of course," he replied as she shook her head, trying her best to conceal a grin. He continued mockingly, "Nah, you know I just went cause I'm _so_ in love with you—"

As soon as the words left his lips, Jim realized it hadn't sounded as jokingly as he intended, and watching her eyes practically bulge out of her head in shock served as further proof of that fact.

He had told her he was in love with her.

Accidentally of course, but convincingly enough that he wondered if he'd ever recover from it. And watching her expression transform in reaction to it shook him to his very core, and made him think that he would have to consciously avoid her for the next several days. Weeks, if that's what it took.

Thinking quickly, Jim did the only thing he knew how to do: laugh it off. He gave a small, forced chuckle, and a look that tried to express he was just kidding, and she reacted in just the way he knew she had been taught to react: follow along.

"Oh, hah. Good joke…" she trailed off, her heart pounding in her ears. She wondered, had he really said '_love'_? Did he say he was in _love_ with her? Or did she imagine it? She couldn't be sure, but she did know the look he was giving her now was one telling her to please do something so he wouldn't feel so embarrassed.

But he didn't have anything to feel embarrassed about. He could at least admit his feelings, she thought, however lighthearted and sarcastic he may have intended them to be. And with that awareness washing over her, she realized that she had finally made up her mind.

"Well, thanks," she told him, and gave him a soft smile.

"Oh yeah, sure… of course," he chuckled nervously as he stared at her. She suddenly took a step forward, making his heartbeat quicken to a thousand miles a minute, and she pulled him in for a friendly hug. He let out a deep sigh, relieved that she was willing to still be polite to him after his monstrous slip up, and found her eyes as she pulled away from him slowly.

He was surprised to find though, that her expression seemed to mirror his: longing, desire, and passion were all visibly apparent on her face. And so he decided to go for it, drawing her in slowly for a soft kiss on the lips, and felt his knees weaken when she reciprocated and deepened it. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the fabric of her dress against his fingertips, and could barely contain himself as her hands found their way into his hair.

The moment seemed to last for hours, but as they finally came up for air, it dawned on him that they had crossed the last boundary between them, and because of that, had altered their entire lives in the process. It exhilarated him, but terrified her, because as soon as she pulled away to look at him, her face fell.

"Oh my God," Pam whispered, her tone shaky and disbelieving. She took one more bewildered look at him and quickly made her way inside her apartment, leaving Jim standing out in the suddenly cold and desolate hallway, his expression riddled with distress. He sunk down to the floor and put his head in his hands, wondering just how he could be so stupid, when he heard her door fly back open.

There she was, standing in the doorway and staring at him, still looking awfully frightened, but determined too. In a flash she bent down in front of him and tipped his chin up to look at her, and before he knew what was happening, she had swept him up into a passionate kiss.

Their embrace was frenzied and haphazard, but Jim managed to pull away from her just long enough to whisper, "Let's go inside." She agreed and quickly pulled him up and into her apartment, hastily closing the door on the rest of the world. Tonight the world was all theirs.

* * *

_I told you. :D_

_Just and FYI, I'm going on vacation for like a week and a half and I'm leaving Monday, so it is unlikely I will update until I get back. Don't quote me on it though, cause I may want to write a little as I'm lounging by the pool. But just so you've been warned, I might not update for a bit. Hopefully this chapter made up for it though!!_


	8. Consequences

_A/N: thank you guys so much for your reviews and well-wishes! I had a wonderful vacation, and even found a little time to write this chapter during it. It was a little rocky at first, considering my downtime included the plane ride where there was screaming babies and turbulence, but after a helpful beta from the wonderful EmilyHalpert, this definitely turned into the chapter I intended it to be. Hope you like it. __Enjoy!_

_P.S. There is a reference to another show in this chapter, which EmilyHalpert found right away and I left in just because it makes me laugh. I'm not going to tell you what show it's from, but if you can find and identify it you win fifty cool points!_

* * *

The light streamed through the windows onto Pam's bed, rousing her from her sleep. As she opened her eyes and adjusted to the light, she suddenly remembered she wasn't alone. She froze for a moment, memories of the night before flooding back, and soon a broad smile appeared on her face. Not wanting to face the consequences yet, she let herself indulge in the man sleeping next to her, his long frame sprawled out against her shorter one.

Slowly, not wanting to wake him, she snaked her arms around his torso and snuggled her head into his shoulder. She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, enjoying being close to him. But she was only able to enjoy it for a second; her eyes shot back open when she felt a pair of arms slowly wrap around her. She looked up and watched a small smirk form on Jim's face, his eyes still shut, and she couldn't help but smile herself.

"Jim—"

"Shh," he whispered. "This is a dream, Pam. And if I open my eyes you're going to disappear."

She buried a grin into his shoulder and told him, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He slowly opened one of his eyes hesitantly, finding her giggling slightly at him, and so he opened the other one and let out a sigh.

"You're still here."

"Yes, I am."

"Good."

They lay there for a while, watching the light dance against the walls and sheets of the bed, and enjoying the peace of the morning. As their fingers casually entwined, Pam couldn't believe how natural this felt, being in his arms, their bodies secured in one another. She thought about how silly she had been with him, being too stubborn to recognize that he was the one for her, and it made her wonder what took her so long to come to her senses.

She giggled at the thought, which made Jim look at her, still smiling, but a bit confused at her sudden laughter. Assuming her thoughts were on the same wavelength as his, he said, "Well, I think it's safe to say that our friendship is effectively ruined."

"Ruined?" she asked with a laugh.

Jim shrugged, "Well, changed."

"Better," she corrected him.

"Better," he concurred, and the room fell into a peaceful silence. Things _were_ better between them, surprisingly better than they had ever been. Tension had always seemed to plague their relationship, making them self-conscious or uneasy, but all traces of anxiety had melted away with every kiss and every touch of the night before.

As a small growl escaped his stomach, Jim realized how late it was getting. "Hey, are you hungry?" he nudged her gently.

"Yeah. What do you want?" she asked affectionately as she traced a line up and down his arm with her finger.

"What do you have?"

"I have tea… coffee… um…"

Jim chuckled, " I guess I'll just have some coffee then."

"Alright," she said as she sat up and pulled herself out of bed, wrapping a sheet around herself.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She turned back to him, covering herself up a little more, "I'm going to get my pajamas from the drawer."

"Uh, I don't know if you realize this, but… there's no need for that sheet anymore," he smirked. "I mean… even with it covering you, I still have a pretty clear picture of what's under it, which will in fact be permanently ingrained in my mind forever."

She shook her head, half embarrassed and half giddy, and jokingly threw the sheet over his head in response. "Picture this," she told him as the sheet covered his eyes, allowing her just enough time to slip on underwear.

Jim laughed as he pulled the sheet off his head and watched her dress. His gaze caused her to blush in embarrassment, not from him seeing her body, but from the adoring look in his eyes. She wasn't used to this much attention, and so she did her best to deflect it. "So, are _you_ going to get dressed?" she asked him.

"What do you have in my size?" he inquired with a smug smirk.

She shook her head at his reply, "Nothing. But luckily your walk of shame isn't very far."

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" he asked as he slid out of bed and she threw him his boxers. "Well, then I'll be back soon, dressed appropriately for breakfast—"

"Bunny slippers?"

"Obviously."

He gathered the rest of his clothes, and before leaving, he pulled her in for a tender kiss. It felt so good to be able to kiss her, to stand so close, taking in the smell of her hair and the heat radiating off her body. As they parted he held onto her securely and whispered, "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that."

"Me too," she whispered back, a smile dancing on her lips.

He looked down for a moment, a new thought plaguing his mind, and finally asked her, "Um… what about Roy?"

Jim watched her expression as she thought about Roy, showing up as uncertainty on her lips and fear in her eyes. He flashed her a compassionate smile, wanting to show he would support her any way he could, and once again she was reminded that she had made the right choice. She finally took a deep breath and said, "I can handle it."

He nodded his head in understanding and told her, "Okay," then gave her forehead a soft kiss and made his way out of her apartment to change into a cotton t-shirt and pajama bottoms. When he went back across the hall, he found Pam with a pot of water in her hands, pouring it into her coffeemaker.

She handed him a mug and he smiled, "Thanks."

"No problem."

"So what were you planning on doing today?" he asked, as the smell of coffee infiltrated the kitchen.

She leaned over the countertop and gave him a contemplative look, "Well, as you can plainly see, I need to go grocery shopping… And, I was thinking about going to the park, if it's nice out."

Jim glanced out the window at the sun shining through. "Looks nice enough," he said as she poured coffee into his mug. "Would you want some company?"

"Sure," she smiled. "I was just going to take my sketchbook and do some drawings—"

"I thought you liked graphic design better."

"Well yeah," she laughed. "But that doesn't mean I don't like to draw. I just don't do it professionally."

"I see," he smirked. "Well then, consider this your last chance to tell me to just buzz off..."

Pam giggled, ""Buzz off'? How old are you?" He shook his head at her and finally decided just to take a sip of his coffee, not having any verbal ammunition to retaliate with. "No, actually, I would love for you to come along," she told him sincerely. "That is, if watching me draw isn't too boring for you."

He smiled kindly, thinking about how even watching her draw would be captivating, and told her earnestly, "It would never be boring."

Just then, they both heard a heavy knock at the door. They jumped at the sudden noise and exchanged an uneasy glance, wondering who it could be, and then heard the voice on the other side shout, "Hey Pammy! You home?"

Pam practically dropped the mug in her hand as she let out a small "Oh no…" Sensing the fear in her voice, Jim took a step forward determinedly, but was stopped by a small wave of her hand, telling him she would handle it.

She opened the door and put on a faux smile, greeting him apprehensively. "Hey Roy," she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "How did you get in?"

He shrugged, "Some tight-ass Christian chick let me in. I thought I'd surprise you."

"You certainly did," she chuckled nervously. "How are you?"

"I haven't seen my girl in over a week, how do you think I am?" he asked in a half cheerful, half irritated tone. She opened the door and motioned for him to come in, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Jim standing at the kitchen counter. "Hey, what the hell, Halpert?" he said angrily.

Jim felt frozen to the floor, bewildered and uncertain. Did Roy know what they'd done? He shot a quick glance over at Pam, but she looked just as panicked as he was, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Where were you last night?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Where were you?" Roy asked again. "The Sixers lost, man, and it's cause you weren't at the game."

Jim breathed a sigh of relief, masked by nonchalance in front of Roy. "Oh, yeah… I was… _busy_ last night," he told him as he shot a quick glance over at Pam, who was covering a smirk.

"Well you know, I should kick your ass for it, but I guess it wasn't anything important like missing the finals or something," he said, now sounding more forgiving than annoyed.

"Yeah… good thing it wasn't something _important_ like that." he grinned.

"So what are you doing over here?"

"Oh, uh…" Jim stammered. "Just uh, just came over for a cup of coffee."

"Oh," Roy nodded, a look on his face that made Jim wonder if he fully believed him. "Well if you don't mind man," he said as he put a hand on Jim's shoulder forcefully. "I'd really like to spend some time with my girlfriend, so can your little breakfast gab session wait for another day?"

Pam decided to jump in at this point, silently letting Jim know she was going to deal with Roy as soon as he left. "Yeah, I really want to spend some time with him. Do you mind, Jim?"

"Uh, no. Of course not."

"Good." She smiled softly as Roy led him out the door with the coffee mug still in his hand.

"Don't worry, buddy. You'll probably see her later or something."

Jim nodded, "Very true. See you later."

"Bye Jim," she gave a little wave as Roy closed the door on him. He turned around and gave a wide smile to her, to which she could only respond with a grimace. "Um, so... what were you going to surprise me with?"

"Oh," Roy said as he sat down on her couch and inspected the lilacs sitting on her coffee table. "I dunno. I just wanted to come over and hang out. Maybe we could watch some TV or something."

She frowned, "Roy, can we talk, maybe?"

"Sure babe, what's up?"

"Um…" she sat down next to him on the couch, further away from him than normal. She took his hand and held it gently, "Um, Roy…. I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"What?"

"I just… we fight all the time, and we don't have the same interests…"

"Pammy, everyone has rough patches," he told her, gripping her hands a little tighter.

She slowly pulled her hands out of his grasp, "Not for months at a time they don't. Roy, you just don't _get_ me. You don't like this lifestyle I have and never supported it, and you don't like that I have a career—"

"Is there someone else?" he snapped, his blood now boiling.

"No!" she responded halfheartedly.

He stared at her and grunted, "Liar," forcing her to shrink into the couch cushions in fear, worried he might do something to her. Although he had come close before, Roy had never laid a finger on her with the intention to do harm, and she wasn't about to let him start now.

"Roy," she sighed, trying to regain her courage. "It doesn't matter if there's someone else. This is over because of _us_, because of our… incompatibility."

He stood up and kept his eyes on her like a hawk watching his prey, "Fine. Break it off for some random guy. But I know that you _will_ come crawling back to me, just like you always do." He shot a quick look to the vase of lilacs and sneered at her, "Are these from _him_?"

"No," she replied, her voice quivering.

"Yeah, right," he growled, picking the vase up and hurling it to the ground, glass shattering everywhere. Pam shrieked at the noise, jumping out of her seat. He gave one more terrorizing look to her and stormed out of her apartment, his boots clunking down the hall.

"I'll never go crawling back," she whispered to no one, collapsing on the floor, scared, shocked, and practically in tears. She sat there and shuddered for a moment before pulling herself up and stumbling into the hall, finding Jim standing in his doorway looking fearful.

"Are you okay?" he asked as she collapsed into his arms, still shaking from fear. He held her close, scared that Roy had hit her, but was paralyzed to ask her if he had.

"He—broke your flowers," she sniffled into his shoulder.

"Hey, that's alright," he hushed her as he stroked her hair. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she whispered, wanting to say more but not being able to. She wanted to tell him how scary Roy had looked when he yelled, how much the sound of shattering glass shook her, how she hoped Jim would never do something like that to her, but it was as if her mouth couldn't form the words. She felt like he knew all of it already anyway.

"Do you still want to go to the park?" he asked. "We can just stay here if you'd rather do that…"

"No, let's go to the park," se insisted, giving his hands a small squeeze. "It'll help take my mind off of everything. Just let me get dressed." She wiped way the last of her tears and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek before hurrying into her apartment. Jim went back into his own apartment to grab his cell phone and keys, and then waited out in the hallway, wondering if there was anything more he could do for her.

But he knew she was strong when she had to be, and he didn't doubt that she would make it through this. He would just have to take things very slowly, ready to be there when she needed him, and ready to give her space if she didn't. There was still so much he didn't know about her, and he was nervous and excited to find out more.

Moments later she appeared, smiling brighter than before, and told him, "Okay, ready." As they walked down the hall to the stairs, Jim took her hand in his own and they instantly felt calm wash over them. This felt right.

* * *

_Do I even need to tell you to please review? It should just be, like, a reflex at this point._


	9. Perks of the Job

_A/N: sorry the updates have been a little slow lately. After I got back from vacation I was in kind of a funk, but luckily the creative juices started flowing again after the jet lag subsided. Literally, I sat down like a week after I got back and just started writing, and it's like the words were flowing from my fingertips. I love when that happens. :D So after that, and a lovely beta from EmilyHalpert, I bring to you, this chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Jim, can you come in here please?" Michael called to his staff writer from inside his office. Glancing a desperate look toward Phyllis, who was not about to help him get out of it, Jim sighed and trudged into his boss' office and sat down. Michael had an unusually stern look on his face, and it made Jim uneasy.

"What is it Michael?" he asked hesitantly.

Michael shook his head, "Jim, I have been getting a lot of calls… a _lot_ o' calls, my friend, and it's _not_ looking good for you."

"What? Why?" Jim suddenly sat up straight, now worried it could be something serious.

"Look. I am your editor, your boss… your best friend…"

"Not my _best_ friend."

"Well, inner circle at least."

"More like outer circle."

"Jim Jim Jim," Michael waved off the topic with his hand. "It's not the time to split hairs with your bestest bud. The point is, you should be able to level with me, so I, in turn, can save your butt." Jim squinted his eyes as Michael waited for enough dramatic tension to build up. Finally, Michael said slowly and clearly, "Do you think… that the Sixers and all their fans wanted _Phyllis_ at that game on Friday?"

"Oh," he responded, now realizing what his boss was talking about. Jim's look of worry quickly transformed into a dismissive one as he pondered if he'd _really_ get fired for missing one game. He sincerely doubted it.

Michael nodded and imitated him mockingly, "'_Oh_.' Yeah, _oh_. _Oh_, Jim. _Blgehh_…" He waved his hands around in the air and stuck his tongue out, and finally, realizing he wasn't acting professional, cleared his throat and said firmly, "Look, the team obviously needs you, okay? You can't just blow them off. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Michael."

"And so from now until the end of the season, they want you at every home game, capiche?"

"What? Seriously? _Every_ home game?"

"They sent over this contract this morning—" Michael pulled a small stack of papers from a file and handed it to him. "It specifies that you have to do this little high-five routine at the beginning of every home game, and that the players can go Buddha on you if they like—"

Jim raised an eyebrow at him, "'Go Buddha'?"

"You know," Michael shrugged like it was no big deal. "Like, rub your belly and stuff, for good luck! Geez Jim, do we need to do diversity training around here or what?" Jim rolled his eyes at his boss as he continued to explain the details of the contract, "Now they will pay you for all your trouble, and they're willing to give you a whole mess of perks too, but we'll need to make a call into them about the specifics… So, let me just get Pacman on the phone and we can work this thing out…"

Jim sighed and rested his chin in his hand as Michael dialed the number for Comcast-Spectacor, the company that owned the Sixers, and asked to be transferred to Todd Packer, their Press and Patron Relations rep. Packer was a real wine 'em and dine 'em kind of guy, always entertaining celebrities and giving them the special treatment when they came to town for an event, and was so high up in the company that it didn't matter that he was crass and sexist. He and Michael shared that trait, which is why they got along swimmingly whenever they had to do business together.

"Pacman!" Michael cried out elatedly as he put the phone on speaker for Jim's benefit.

"Hey you big queen!" Packer snidely responded. "Hey, what has two thumbs and likes to bone your mom?" He didn't wait for Michael to guess before he answered his own riddle, "This guy!"

"Oh you are so bad! Yeah! Haha!" Michael laughed giddily, and then remembered his reason for calling. "Um, so Pacman, I have Jim Halpert sitting here with me—"

"Ohh, what's up, Halpert? Still queer?" Packer asked through the speakerphone as Michael practically fell out of his chair from laughing so hard. Jim rolled his eyes as Packer continued, "Who knew we'd ever need a fag sitting courtside, right?"

Michael composed himself and tried to defend Jim's honor, if for nothing else than because he desperately craved Jim's friendship. "Now Packer, I won't have you speak about Jim like that… even though he _is_ going through a dry spell, it definitely doesn't mean he's gay…"

"It just means no woman would want to nail him!" Packer finished the sentence that Michael didn't have to guts to say as Jim's mouth showed a hint of a smirk about how wrong they were. He stopped smiling abruptly though, knowing he couldn't let Michael see him making that face.

"Uh, Michael—" Jim cleared his throat and waved his hand to signal Michael to move the call along.

Michael pointed at Jim with a wry grin on his face and addressed Packer, "So let's make a deal, my friend! What are you offering my young ward?"

"Well, despite my personal opinions of the guy, apparently Eddie, Freddy and Peter all seem to think we need him, and they're willing to offer him a shit-ton of perks: he'll get to sit right behind the team, he'll get free food, jerseys, those big-ass foam fingers… whatever he wants."

"Ooh, foam fingers, Jim…" Michael nodded his head convincingly.

"We're also willing to offer him a guest seat," Packer said, then chuckled, "Not that he'd have anyone to take besides his _mommy_—"

"Nonsense, Packer!" Michael objected. "He's got his boss and _best bud_ to take! Right Jim?"

"Oh, Michael, um…" Jim stammered, wondering how he could describe how quickly his love life had changed this past weekend. He knew though, that he couldn't do it without having to tell him _everything_, and he wasn't about to do that while Todd Packer was on the line. He tried to be as diplomatic as possible, concealing a smile as best he could, and cautiously explained, "I mean, I can take you one time maybe, but I was already thinking of… other people to take…"

"What are you saying, grasshopper?" Michael looked inquisitively at him, trying to read the undeniable joy on his face, and in a snap he figured it out. "Packer, let me call you back—"

"You and Jim gonna go make ou—" Packer's vulgar inquiry was cut off by Michael disconnecting the call. He leaned forward in his chair and stared at Jim for a long minute before deciding to speak. By the way Jim squirmed in his seat, Michael was sure he had figured it out.

"I know that look," he told Jim slyly as he leaned back in his chair. "I looked like that after Jan and I first kissed in the parking lot of a Chili's." Jim's dreamlike smile faded as Michael asked deviously, "So, dry spell over, is it?"

"Michael—"

"Come on, who's the lucky girl?"

"I don't think—"

"Oh! Is that why you weren't at the game?? Ohhh, man!! Way to go, big dog! Big dog got it dog-style!"

"Oh God," Jim sighed and shielded his eyes as Michael did a jubilant, yet overly explicit dance in his chair.

"Well forget me, man," Michael concluded. "You go ahead and take her, cause you know I ain't doin that for ya at the end of the night! Yeah, baby! Woo!!" Unable to bear the humiliation anymore, Jim got out of his chair unexcused and headed for the door as Michael suggested, "Hey, maybe you guys would want to come over for dinner sometime—"

"I don't think she'd be able to handle it," he replied as he made his way out of his boss' office, shutting the door behind him. He let out a heavy sigh and glanced at Phyllis, who was typing diligently, but obviously restraining herself from being too gossipy. He sat down in his chair with a thud, exhaled heavily, and told her with a small smile, "Thanks, by the way, for covering for me on Friday. It was worth missing a game for."

Phyllis smiled a coy, yet motherly smile at him, and told him, "I'm glad."

… … …

"Pam, can you come in here please?" Ryan asked as Pam passed by his office, almost spilling the cup of tea in her hand. She and Ryan hadn't talked since their encounter at the party, and she was nervous about how he would reprimand her for the stunt she pulled.

She quietly took a seat and looked down at the mug in her hands. She couldn't bear to look at the firm glare on Ryan's face, and so she kept her eyes lowered as she asked, "So… what did you want to see me about?"

"Pam…" Ryan leaned back in his chair and looked off into the distance. "I have been over it in my head a hundred times, and I still can't figure out what possessed you to set me up with Kelly."

"Oh."

"I mean, is it that I'm a bad boss, Pam? Do I not lead you all in a manner that gets the job done and gets the word about exhibits and events out to the public?"

Pam stammered, unsure what to say, "Well—yes, you _do_ do that—"

"Then what is it?" Ryan asked, genuinely curious. "Is this just an issue with you? A… 'woman trouble'?"

"Ugh, no, Ryan…" she made a disgusted face and shook her head, mortified her boss was even asking her these questions. "It's just…"

Ryan cocked his head to the side and gave her what was supposed to be a comforting smile, "Come on. Out with it."

"You just…" Pam stopped, wondering if she could tell her boss exactly what she thought of him: that he was pompous and belittling, and while he offered raises left and right, he never took the time to even tell his employees, 'good job.' It sometimes made her feel like doing the job wasn't worth it, and so she set him up with Kelly just to annoy him just the way he annoys her.

Pam looked up wide-eyed at her boss, who was waiting on an explanation, and knew she had to lie. "I just thought you and Kelly would enjoy each other's company. Really, that's all I meant it to be… and I know she can be a little clingy and talkative—"

Ryan scoffed, "Yeah, a _little_—"

"But I just thought you were both social and both interesting people, and I thought it would work out…"

"Well," Ryan sighed and leaned back. "You were right about that. By the end of the night, things ended up working out really well."

"What?" Pam asked, sitting straight up.

"Yeah, I mean, you're right, she's a lot to take, but…" he picked up a large stack of envelopes. "Those patrons loved her! We made more on that Preview Party than we have on any other event."

Pam was impressed, but after seeing Kelly's charm on Friday, it didn't surprise her much. "Wow," she responded.

"And… the two of us actually hit it off after we left as well," Ryan said with a hint of a suggestive smirk, which made Pam inwardly shudder in disgust. So much for calling your BFF after something monumental happens… not that she'd be intrigued in the slightest about any of the details.

"Oh…" she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. 'Well… good."

"It is good," Ryan affirmed. "And, she told me the most interesting stories about you as well…"

Her face flushed as she thought about all the embarrassing things from her childhood that Kelly could've told him, and she bit her lip slightly as she asked, "Oh… really?"

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Yeah… I wear contacts now, so I really only wear them at night."

"And you used to spend lunches in the art room?"

"Well, it was nice and quiet in there… No one around to bother me…"

"Kelly said it made you a loser."

_Thanks Kelly_, she thought, silently fuming.

"Uh, not to her though—" Ryan quickly clarified. "She just said, in general, people… Uh, but she also said you would always help her with color schemes when she would design her own clothes," he said with a smile.

This softened her expression, "Um, yeah, she did… she thought I was some kind of expert or something."

"Well…" Ryan started in, Pam wondering if this would finally be the day she got some verbal praise form her boss. "Enough of this chitchat. You have some photos from the party to load onto our patrons' page."

"Right," Pam sighed.

"Don't forget to send a copy to _The Inquirer_," he reminded her, and her face immediately brightened.

"Oh, I won't," she told him, her smile beaming, and he dismissed her from his office. She sat down at her desk, taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea, and opened the email from the photographer of Friday night's party. As she scrolled through photo after photo of wealthy patrons, pondering which ones to highlight on the website, she stopped abruptly at one of them.

The photographer had snapped a candid of Kelly, Jim, and herself from later in the evening, when everyone had had plenty to drink. Kelly was tipping her glass to her and Jim with an open-mouthed smile while Pam was desperately hanging onto Jim's shoulders. It looked like she had just slipped and almost fell, but he had caught her in the nick of time. She barely remembered the moment herself, but it made her smile all the same. She grinned even wider when she saw the look in his eyes, as he gazed at her sloppy and drunken behavior.

It was beyond a doubt a loving look.

She then realized what he had let slip Friday was the truth, that he was in love with her, and instead of her feeling scared that things were moving too fast too soon or that he didn't know enough about her to be in love, she felt exhilarated.

Everything from Friday night onward had felt so right that she didn't even feel the need to question it. Their day in the park was amazing, full of comfortable silences as Jim people-watched and Pam sketched, and full of laughter to help her feel better about her breakup that had occurred not a few hours earlier. They had spent the rest of the weekend together, growing more comfortable and tender with each other.

_Maybe,_ she thought to herself, _this could be…_

She stopped herself there though, knowing it was too soon to think anything like that. But the way their relationship was going, she knew she'd be able to think it soon enough.

Pam sighed dreamily and clicked 'compose message' on her email, typing in Jim's work address, and immediately attached the photo.

_Thought you might enjoy making fun of me for this. When the heck did I slip?? Think I should submit it to the Arts and Entertainment section? ;)_

She hit send and began biting on her nails, hoping he would be at his desk to give a quick reply. She busied herself with picking out photos of the most generous patrons and attaching them to the email to Carol Stills, the society columnist of _The Inquirer_, when she heard a ding signaling a new message:

_I don't know if you know this Beesly, but you are one klutzy drunk. You fell several times that night and it's a good thing I drove. And go ahead and submit it to Carol. I dare you._

Pam scrunched up her face at his reply. She was stuck. She couldn't possibly turn down a dare, so she took another glance at the photo. She didn't look too idiotic, she supposed, and it was a fun photo overall.

She included it at the last minute and hit 'send' before she could change her mind.

… … …

Jim stepped out of the elevator onto the twelfth floor and into the Arts and Entertainment section. It had been months since he was last up there, running an errand for Michael, but since Michael had broken up with the department's society columnist, everyone in the sports section was trying to avoid everything art. That was going to be a considerably tougher job for Jim now that Pam was in the picture.

He made his way through the cubicles and finally arrived at Carol Stills' door. He inhaled deeply before knocking, trying to remember to breathe, and told himself he'd be fine. She seemed like a reasonable enough woman, even if she had been involved in that debacle with Michael, so he was fairly confident about asking for a favor.

"Come in," she called, and when he stepped in the door he could tell she was trying to maintain a friendly face. "Jim. What can I do for you?"

Jim took a seat and rested one of his hands against his chin. "Well, I was wondering about your article on Reverberations—"

"Oh, right. Well as you know, the press saw it on Saturday, and it was just lovely. The colors were so vibrant…" A small smile spread across her face. "But, I don't need to tell you how beautiful the art was, do I?"

He laughed, "Pam sent you that photo?"

"Oh yes she did," Carol grinned. "It's one of the better ones, actually, and I think it would be good for your image if we used it."

"My _image_?"

"Well, you know…" she gestured with her hands. "You'll look more… accessible. It shows people that you're not all about sports."

Jim chuckled nervously, "It might upset a few Sixers fans…"

"Oh please, name one Sixers fan that reads the Arts and Entertainment section." Jim thought for a moment and surprisingly couldn't think of anyone. Not even himself, unless he was looking up movie times. Carol continued, "It's all up to my editor of course, but if you want it in then we'll keep it."

"Oh, I want it in. I was the one who dared Pam to send it to you."

Carol gave him the same look that Phyllis had given him earlier, "You two seem pretty friendly with each other…"

"Well…" Jim leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips. "We're kind of… dating."

"Congratulations! That's great."

"Thanks," Jim chuckled. "You know, I don't know why I was so worried talking to you about this. I guess Michael… colors my judgment."

Her smile fell for a moment before she waved off his concern with her hand, "Well, what happened between Michael and I shouldn't affect everyone else in our departments. I'm always happy to help, especially if you're dating Pam. She's a lovely girl."

"Yeah, she's really… great," he replied, his eyes gazing off into the distance.

"Well, can I ask you to do something for me now?"

"Sure," Jim was shaken from his daydream and leaned forward, awaiting instruction.

Carol turned her computer screen so it faced him, the photo displayed in full view, "Who's this on the right holding her drink up? If we can get her approval to use it then it can go in the column."

Jim smiled, excited his plan actually had a chance of working out, and he wondered how he'd ever be able to keep it a secret from Pam until it was published.

… … …

Sure enough, the photo showed up in _The Inquirer's_ Sunday edition, with a caption and everything:

"_Lucky he was there! Philly's personal good luck charm, Jim Halpert, takes a night off from sports and attends Reverberations with girlfriend and PAFA website manager, Pam Beesly (left), and owner of Knit Wit, Kelly Kapoor."_

Now, their relationship was official.

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_Next up is date #2!! Thanks for reading!!_


	10. Next Time

_A/N: so, I'm extremely excited that I got this chapter up as fast as I did. I was predicting at least Tuesday or Wednesday for it, but after EmilyHalpert did such a fast beta (and not even on her own computer too!), I am able to bring it to you today. HUGE thanks to her for being so awesome. Also, a big thanks to Bears Eat Beets, who was very patient and supportive when I was whining over my timeline woes. I don't know why she puts up with me sometimes. :D  
_

_Now, I know not many of you have probably ventured over to MTT (or if you have, you were very scared by the lavender), but I have several links for this chapter specifically that will really enrich your reading experience. Just go to my profile to get there._

_Enjoy!_

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Roy watched his coworkers from afar as he finished the last of his morning coffee. They all had copies of the paper and were simply buzzing with excitement, and it made him wonder what was so interesting that even the foreman was slacking off and engaging in the gossip.

He got out of his truck, grabbing his hardhat from the passenger's seat, and took a deep sigh. He hadn't shown up to work all last week, instead, drinking himself into a stupor for the better part of it. Darryl had come over to his place a few times to try and snap him out of his funk, but he had been unsuccessful. Sometimes he just made Roy madder, and one time Roy had gotten so out of control that he tried to hit him.

Looking back at the past week, Roy realized he needed to apologize for being such a jackass. There was no reason for him to get so upset about Pam since he knew it was just temporary, and there was especially no reason to hurt a friend who was just trying to help.

He walked up to his coworkers with a soft smile and immediately the jabbering stopped. He looked toward Darryl for a signal as to what was going on—after all, he was still the only one who knew about the break up—but for some reason Darryl wouldn't make eye contact with him.

"What's up guys? How was everyone's weekend?" Roy asked his coworkers cheerfully, hoping someone would clue him in, but the circle of construction workers remained eerily silent.

"Ohh, I see what's going on here," Roy shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded his head slowly. "Darryl filled you all in on my split with Pam. Well don't worry about it, guys. I mean, I was a mess last week, but I'm doing alright now. And I know she'll come back like she always does—"

"Actually," Darryl looked up at his friend with hesitancy. "I don't know about that, man."

"What, you talked to her or something?"

Everyone in the circle exchanged an uneasy glance, and then Madge took a deep sigh and handed him her newspaper.

"I'm sorry man," Darryl said, his voice subdued.

Roy took a moment to glance over the entire page, trying to figure out what they were talking about. He looked at all the photos accompanying the article, and seemed confused as to why his friends were discussing an art show and rich people. Then he caught the familiar face of his girlfriend and his eyes widened in shock. There she was, hanging all over her neighbor and _his_ sports idol, and looking downright overjoyed about it.

Then his eyes drifted to the caption below, and as he read, he could feel his veins constricting in rage.

"'_His_ girlfriend'?" Roy said through clenched teeth.

No one could think of a response to his question, even though they all knew it was rhetorical. Instead, there were mumblings of excuses and halfhearted apologies.

He then began to quickly skim the article, hoping for some kind of an explanation, and what he found angered him even more. "This picture was taken thenight_ before_ she broke up with me…"

Again, his observations were met with an uneasy silence, and instantly Roy knew what they had all been gossiping about.

"That bitch!!" he roared, throwing his hardhat into the dirt and storming off. As the rest of his coworkers watched him stomp away, Darryl ran after is friend and caught up with him at his truck.

"Man, just calm down, okay?"

"Don't you tell me to calm down! She cheated on me!! And I've had plenty of chances to cheat on _her_ these past five years, but did I? No! I totally could've, and I didn't!—"

"But look, that could be a typo or something—"

"A typo my ass! And how the hell did she manage to get _him_?! She may act all high and mighty, but I know where she comes from, and she's nowhere near good enough for this guy—"

"I know, man."

"It's bull crap! I mean, look at him!" Roy held out the newspaper and shook it in Darryl's face. "What the _hell_ has she turned him into?! He missed the Sixers game for _this_?! Someone needs to knock some sense into him—"

"Roy—"

"Or…" Roy suddenly became lost in thought as he sat down in the driver's side of his truck and stared at the paper. "Someone needs to knock the wind _out_ of him."

"What are you talking about?" Darryl asked cautiously.

"It takes _two_ people for stuff like this to happen… No reason all the blame should be on her…"

"Roy. This is nonsense," Darryl put his hand on Roy's shoulder. "It's foolishness. I bet if you just ask her to come clean—"

"No. No man. It's way past that. She had her chance to come clean a week ago, when I asked her if there was someone else. She said no… She lied! Lied to my face! So now, I get the privilege of beating the crap out of her little 'secret boyfriend'."

In one fell swoop, Roy slammed the car door and peeled out of the parking space. Darryl could only watch in dread as Roy drove away from the construction site, knowing nothing would stop him from getting the revenge he wanted.

… … …

"Okay, this is your last chance," Jim teased as he locked his door. "You really don't have to go to the game with me if you want to."

"Are you kidding?" Pam replied, locking her own door and walking down the hallway with him. "You have been hyping this up for a week. How could I possibly not go?"

He gave her a smirk as they descended the stairs and exited the rowhouse, "Well, I just don't want it to be boring for you is all…"

"No way. I can't wait to see you in action," she beamed up at him, and he responded by taking a gentle hold of her hand. This was the first basketball game after his new contract took effect, and Pam would be his first guest. While Michael had teased him mercilessly about it, he was excited to be taking Pam. Even if she didn't understand all the strategies and specifics of the game itself, she would at least be entertained by the antics Jim had to be put through.

They walked the short couple of blocks to Alma de Cuba, the restaurant he had assured her he'd take her to the "next time" they went out on a date, and were seated on the second floor near the window. They were excited to have a perfect view of Walnut Street; it reminded them of their terrace, where they now spent their nights people-watching, and they had fun joking about the passers-by until their waitress came to take their order.

"Welcome to Alma de Cuba. My name is Nancy, and I'll be taking care of you this evening," she said with a bright smile. "Oh, my goodness! You're the good luck charm!"

"Guilty," Jim said with an embarrassed smile.

"My father loves you," she gushed. "He's hoping you'll help out during the Eagles' season."

He shrugged as Pam watched on in amusement, and told Nancy, "I'll try."

She took their order and brought them drinks, and soon the conversation had settled into the playful back and forth of witty banter:

"I'm not saying you should contact the Dalai Lama or anything," Pam grinned. "But if people can, in fact, rub your belly for good luck, you might just be the answer to the Tibetan people's prayers."

Jim returned an equally flirtatious smile, "I think we should take my luck on the road. Do an international tour and stuff…"

"Exactly! Five dollars to rub your belly, ten dollars for a high-five…"

"The sports lull of July and August is coming up, we could do it then," he told her as Nancy brought out their dinner. "Although, I haven't actually won any championships for anyone yet…"

Pam gave him a light shrug as she took a bite, "Well, the Sixers are already in the finals, right?"

"Game one is tonight," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Well after you help them win the championship, we will definitely start planning your world tour." They smiled at each other and continued to eat, and soon enough, it was time for the grand finale of their dinner: Nancy brought out Alma de Cuba's infamous chocolate cigar dessert and lit the accompanying book of "matches" with a flourish.

"Thank you, thank you," she smiled as Jim and Pam lightly applauded her presentation. "Anything for Philly's cutest couple." She winked at Pam subtly, who was blushing, and left them to their dessert.

It was surreal for Pam to think of her and Jim as a couple. On the one hand, she felt completely comfortable with him, like she had been with him her whole life and it was natural for things to be moving so quickly. But she did have to remind herself that they had only been dating a week or so. Things were still so new, she couldn't help but worry if they were moving _too_ fast.

But as he ate his half of the chocolate cigar and joked with her about the people passing by on the street below, she knew that this pace was right for them. Every smile, every glance made her feel more secure in their relationship, and made her trust in him grow.

"Ready to go?" Jim asked as he signed the bill. "I think I'd be in big trouble if we're late for the game."

She smiled at him softly and laughed a bit in excitement, "Definitely. Let's go."

They made their way outside and grabbed a taxi to the Wachovia Complex, entering through the VIP gate. Pam was impressed with the way all the attendants and guards treated Jim with such respect, but when she met Todd Packer, her enthusiasm dwindled.

"Well well, Halpert! Tall, queer, handsome as ever—and who is this? Definitely not your mommy…" he licked his lips and looked Pam up and down, making her feel nauseated.

"Um, I'm his date…" she told him hesitantly, then found the confidence to tell him, "We're together."

"Oh sure," Packer replied, brushing her off. "What happened Halpert, get scared straight?"

As the two watched him double over in laughter, Pam couldn't help but look up a Jim, a terrified expression on her face that people like this actually existed in the world. Jim could only shrug in response, knowing he was familiar with at least two of them.

"So, can we get this over with?" Jim asked, impatient.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Packer said, signaling to two attendants to join them. "Now, Dennis here will be taking Jimmy to the players' entrance. And Didi, if you can handle it sweet cheeks, you're taking Pam to section 124, row B, seat 3. Can you remember all that?"

The attendant, who was about Pam's age, sighed exasperatedly, but quickly nodded at her superior. She then gave Pam a soft smile, reassuring her she was friendly, as Packer went on about how incompetent women were.

"I'll see you out there," Jim told her as Packer signaled to them that they had to go. He gave her a short yet affectionate kiss, and she watched on as Dennis and Packer led him away.

"Ready to go?" Didi asked cheerfully.

"Sure," Pam answered, as Didi pointed the way.

"It's so romantic that he's taking you to a game," she gushed as they walked down the long corridor. "I mean, I try to be romantic by just calling my husband at work, and here you are supporting him as he goes through this pretty humiliating show…"

"Why is it so humiliating?"

"Oh, you've never seen it?" Didi asked, shocked. Pam could only shrug, and so Didi explained: "Well, they introduce him _after_ the starting lineup, indicating that he's the most important one, and then he has to run out onto the court and high-five all the players. _And_, since its the finals, there are even pyrotechnics!"

"Wow."

"But, after watching this routine for a while, us attendants can tell he doesn't like it much. It's just gotten bigger and more embarrassing over the past few months, and now that it's the finals, it's just crazy."

Pam knitted her brows together, "Yeah, he doesn't like it when people make a big deal out of him…"

"Yeah… But I bet it'll be nice to have you there," she said with a smile as they entered the arena. "Kind of comforting to have someone you care about in the crowd, you know?"

"Yeah…" Pam smiled to herself as they found her seat. Sure enough, they were seated right behind the home bench, perfect for last-minute luck-spreading.

"Now, if you need anything, just raise your hand and someone will come help you," she informed her.

"Thanks," she graciously told the attendant. She wasn't just thanking Didi for showing her to her seat, but also her insight as well. It made her all the more confident that this was what she wanted in a relationship.

Soon the pre-game intro began, and just as Didi had told her, Jim was the last one out, jogging onto the court as music blasted from the speakers and small fireworks lit up the arena. He waved to everyone, an embarrassed expression on his face, and then joined the starting lineup as all the players high-fived him. Reggie Evans took a little extra luck by tousling his hair, and Andre Iguodala even smacked him on the ass on his way off the court. By the time Jim took his seat next to Pam, he looked mortified.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he told her as he gave her a peck on the cheek. "The high-fives are fine, but I wish the manhandling would stop."

Pam giggled, "Well, how many other people can say they've gotten smacked on the butt by Andre Iguodala?"

"Not very many Pam. That _is_ quite a privilege," he retorted, causing a veritable smile-fest between the two of them.

… … …

It was well into the fourth quarter, and things were getting intense. The Sixers had a slight lead on their opponent, the L.A. Lakers, but their defense was starting to wane.

"Willie!" Maurice Cheeks, the head coach, called to his guard. "Get in there, but first go get yourself some luck!"

He pointed toward Jim, who was looking worn out from having to be so active in the game, and Willie Green nodded obediently. He leaned over his chair as Jim stood up, and they exchanged a small smile and a lackluster high-five.

"Who's the girl?" Willie asked as he motioned to Pam, who was looking up at the both of them.

"Oh," Jim's face suddenly brightened. "This is my girlfriend, Pam."

She smiled at the mention that they were an item, and then heard Willie say, "Well she must be lucky too then. Show me whatcha got, girl." He held his hand up and she gave it a smack, almost her entire hand fitting inside his palm, and then they heard Maurice yelling.

"Willie! What are you doing, son? Get out there!"

"Later guys," Willie said as he ran out onto the court, and Jim made sure to nudge Pam's side as they sat back down.

"So you think you're lucky too?" he asked her playfully.

"Yeah. I think I am," she beamed as they watched Willie victoriously prevent Kobe Bryant from making a three-pointer. Despite the rousing cheers all around them, Pam found herself lightly resting her head on Jim's shoulder, snuggling into him tenderly. And when he responded by kissing the top of her head, she couldn't help but close her eyes and savor the moment. Even if she wasn't actually lucky in sports, she was definitely lucky in love.

… … …

"What a game," Pam said as they walked along Penn's Landing, the area along the waterfront of the Delaware River. The game had ended well over an hour ago, with the Sixers winning by a tremendous amount, but neither Jim nor Pam really wanted the night to end. Penn's Landing was a perfect place to prolong a date, so when she suggested they go there, he had immediately agreed.

"Seriously," Jim replied, "I never thought our defense would be able to shut them down like that."

She looked up at him with a grin and teased, "It must be because you're so lucky."

"It must be because _you're_ so lucky," he made his rebuttal with a soft squeeze of her hand. He looked down at her as they walked along the riverfront, the glow of the streetlights dancing in her eyes, and suddenly he felt overcome with joy. Memories of their first few times hanging out together flashed in his mind, reminding him of a time when he never thought he even had a chance with her, and it made him all the more appreciative of what they had now.

With these thoughts racing through his head, Jim quickly stopped in his tracks and pulled Pam in for a deep and passionate kiss, his hands cradling her cheeks softly. She was startled, at first, by the abruptness of it all, but as soon as his lips touched hers, she immediately melted into his embrace and delighted in being swept up into a kiss.

As they parted, she immediately realized that they had shared their first real kiss in public. The thought of it made her face turn red and made her cover her mouth to hide her smile, and she looked at him in a way that asked him what possibly overcame him to make him want to kiss her like that so openly.

"So, I was thinking about the _next_ next time we go to dinner…" he started in as they began to walk down the riverfront again, also slightly self-conscious about their affectionate display. "How does Italian food sound?"

"Okay, that sounds good," she said ecstatically, chewing on her bottom lip and getting lost in her thoughts. Even though he had told her he had been thinking about future dinner plans, she couldn't help but wonder if Italian food was what _really_ made him stop and kiss her so passionately. She sincerely doubted it.

… … …

"Thanks for tonight," Pam said as they walked through the parking lot of their building. "I had a lot of fun."

"I'm really glad," he replied. "Does this mean you'll bring your luck to game two?"

"Definitely."

"Good." They smiled at each other, and Jim began to fish his keys out of his pocket when he felt Pam stop unexpectedly and heard her breath hitch. He turned to her to see what was wrong, but she had her eyes fixated on what was in front of her, so he squinted his eyes at the back door of the rowhouse.

Sure enough, sitting in the shadow of the stairway was a dark and shrouded figure. Jim couldn't tell who it was from this far away, but after looking at the panic in her face again, he knew she could tell exactly who is was.

She took a step forward as the figure got off of the ground, grunting as he hoisted himself up, and she asked, her voice quivering: "…Roy?"

* * *

_Dun dun DUUUUUNNNN!!_


	11. Bruises and Bandages

_A/N: sorry for the long waits between updates. School just started again and, well, you know how hectic getting into the swing of things can be. This chapter was definitely a challenge—way more angsty than I usually care to go—but I'm happy with the result, and I hope you are as well._

A million thanks to EmilyHalpert, who is still beta'ing without the use of her own computer. That is dedication, my friends, and loads of credit goes to her. Enjoy!

* * *

Angela watched from her living room window at the scene below. She felt one of her cats brush up against her leg as she sat perched in her rocking chair, but she could not take her eyes off what was happening down in the parking lot.

"Well look who it is!" Roy slurred as he steadied himself against the stair railing. "The lovebirds."

"Roy…" Pam stood before him confidently, but still had a waver in her voice. "What are you doing?"

He stumbled toward them, and Jim took a protective hold of Pam's hand. "Oh, you know…" Roy trailed off. "Just… doing a little _reading_." He held up his tattered and torn copy of the newspaper containing their now infamous photo. "You were always trying to get me to read the arts section, Pammy. And the _one_ time I do…"

"Roy," Pam said again, this time with much more assurance. "I know what I did to you was wrong—"

"_Wrong_?" Roy laughed as he tried to balance himself without use of the railing. "You've done _plenty_ wrong sweetheart. But I know who's responsible for _this_—" He shook the newspaper in a clenched fist and pointed an unsteady finger at Jim. "_You're_ the one that did _this_, Halpert." He furrowed his brows together in anger, "You're the one that took her away from me!—"

With that, Roy charged at Jim, slamming him onto the ground and knocking the wind out of him.

Angela watched from her window two floors above as Roy swung punch after punch at wherever he could aim. She watched another second longer to see Pam try to pull Roy off of him; when Roy shoved her away and she was knocked to the ground, Angela knew she had to do something.

Angela couldn't believe what she had witnessed. When she had met Roy a little over a week ago, he looked sweet and caring, and said he wanted to surprise Pam and spend the day with her. Since he had shown up in the morning and wasn't already in her bed, Angela had commended him on adhering to propriety and not lustfully sleeping with her while they weren't married. Now she knew his sins were altogether different.

She quickly made her way down the stairs and pounded on the super's door in a fury. "D!" she yelled. "D! Come quick!!"

Dwight opened the door urgently, "What is it Monkey?"

"There's an assailant in the parking lot!"

"What!" he gasped. "Not on my watch!" He hurriedly grabbed a can of pepper spray off his front table and ran outside, Angela at his heels. "Hey!" he shouted to the figures on the ground as he aimed his pepper spray.

"Huh?" Roy turned his head and was immediately covered in the stinging foam, leaving him defenseless. He covered his eyes and fell to Jim's side, writhing in pain as everyone else made their own sputtering coughs from breathing in the chemicals.

Dwight, only flinching from the pain, removed his cell phone from its holster and dialed 911. "Yes, hello, this is Dwight K. Schrute—No, don't hang up! I swear, this is a real emergency!"

Angela looked on from the doorway as Dwight cornered Roy against the wall of the building and tended to Jim and Pam's safety. She toyed at the pendant of her necklace, and could not help but feel slightly hot and bothered from his heroic behavior.

… … …

Jim could barely open his right eye when he finally awoke, but he saw out of his left eye that Pam was sitting beside him. She gently held his hand and smiled meekly at him, but when he tried to smile back, he found it hurt too much.

"Careful," she whispered. "You're pretty swollen."

He tried shifting in his seat, but felt sore all over. He groaned, "What happened?"

"I… almost got you killed?" she tried to laugh, but he could see through his good eye that she was noticeably uncomfortable.

He gripped her hand a little tighter in reassurance, "Don't worry. Please. I'll be fine… won't I?"

"Yeah," she smiled warmly at him as he looked at his surroundings. He could tell he was definitely in a hospital, hooked up to all kinds of machines, which made him wonder how serious his injuries were. He saw vases of flowers, gift baskets and balloons filling his room, which made him half-smile. Then something caught his eye.

"Why is Dwight on the TV?" he asked inquisitively, and saw Pam look toward the television mounted on the wall.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and reached for the remote, turning the volume up.

"—discharged it at a distance of a little over a meter into the perpetrator's eyes, nose, and face area…" Dwight told a reporter.

Pam watched as Jim's tattered face made an expression of realization. "Did Dwight…?"

"Oh yes he did," Pam smirked, as they watched the broadcast.

Dwight continued, "…rendering him utterly and completely disabled. Then I contacted the authorities. The end."

They then saw the local sports anchor, Vai Sikahema, come onto the screen: "Well there you have it, Philly fans, from the man who saved our good luck charm himself. It's a shame our Jim wasn't lucky enough to escape such a vicious beating, and from what his doctors say it doesn't seem like he'll be able to make it to game number two of the NBA finals. But we wish him all the best for a speedy recov—"

The anchor was cut off abruptly by Pam, hitting the power button and shutting the television off. She let out a deep sigh and bit her lip, and told Jim, "Sorry you had to find out like that…"

"It's the price I pay…" he replied, looking solemn. "It's really that bad?"

She nodded slowly, "The worst of it is a bruised rib on your left side, from when he fell on you. The doctors say it'll probably hurt to even breathe for a while…"

Until just then, Jim hadn't noticed how shallow his breaths had been coming, and felt a sharp pain in his side as soon as he tried to breathe deeper. He shut his eyes in pain as he felt Pam's grasp on him tighten in fear.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern plaguing her voice.

He took a shallow breath and felt the pain subside, "Yeah, just… testing the waters."

She gave a small laugh, and Jim was amazed at how the softest of chuckles could brighten his spirits. "Well," she sighed. "They say that sometimes the pain lasts for months. But as long as you rest and don't strain yourself too much, you can start to feel better within a week or so."

"That's good to hear," he said, slowly readjusting himself on the bed.

Just then, a nurse cheerfully knocked on the door and showed herself in. She and Pam exchanged a smile, and then she addressed her patient, "Well, look who's awake! I didn't think you'd wake up before my shift ended." She began to check his vitals and bandages, and then told him, "Your parents have been waiting in the hospital cafeteria. Should I go get them for you?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you…"

"Jessica," the nurse told him with a smile.

"Thanks Jessica," he said, and she gave a curt nod and quickly exited the room. His mind was now racing with activity. His parents were here? Had they already met Pam? This was certainly not the circumstance under which he wanted them to meet for the first time, and he suddenly felt nervous about what they could've said to her.

He looked over to his girlfriend, who was still holding his hand firmly and looking down at their entwined fingers. "Your mom… didn't like seeing you unconscious," she softly explained. "I told them I could wait here with you while they went to get dinner."

"Mom's always been squeamish," he replied. "What did they say to you?"

She put on a fake smile, "Oh… They were really nice, considering..."

"Considering you got me beat up and knocked out?"

"Don't you pin this one on me," she told him with mock-seriousness. "You _dared_ me to send that photo to Carol."

"I know," he said, running his thumb over her knuckles. "I _guess_ you're worth it."

They exchanged a smile and small laugh, and then Jim's parents filed into the room. Jim was relieved to see his parents acting considerately towards Pam, especially since they could've easily blamed his injuries on her. Instead, they were all laughing and joking around in no time, which was a sure sign that they had accepted her as an important part of his life.

His parents came and left, as well as other various guests, and Pam had stayed through it all. She had endured the mocking remarks and the awkward sympathy Jim's visitors gave to her, and to him, it proved even more how special she was. She had even put up with Michael when he stopped by:

"Ugh, Jimbo, you look awful!" he said, making a beeline to Jim's side.

"Thanks Michael," Jim replied, the not as swollen side of his face forming a grin.

"Just, black and blue, and pus leaking from that gash on your cheek…" he leaned in to inspect Jim closer, which made Jim wince. "Ugh. I hate hospitals you know. In my mind, they are associated with sickness."

"Can't imagine why you would think that," he managed to say with a straight face. "Oh, Michael, this is Pam, the one—"

"From the photo!" Michael exclaimed, walking around to the other side of the bed where Pam had been sitting. She stood up to shake his hand, but instead received a reprimand, "Now listen, missy. Jim is my best friend in the whole wide world—"

"No, I'm not," Jim corrected him.

"Just, shut it," Michael hissed, and then turned back to Pam. "And, if you are going to get him beat up all the time, then I think I am just going to forbid him to see you… even if you are the hottest piece of tail he's gotten in a while."

"Wow," she said, taking a step back from his uncomfortably close proximity. "I… I'm sorry?"

"_Sorry_ is not going to cut it, Spamster—"

"Spamster?" Pam questioned. "Like, Pam, plus spam, plus…"

"Hamster," Michael replied, to which Pam could only nod in response. He continued, "You realize he's missing one of the finals games, right? Well, considering that the Sixers _suck_ when the big dog is not around, they are going to lose, and they are going to lose big time. And it will be all your fault—"

"Actually," Jim interrupted, "Wouldn't it be all Roy's fault?"

"Yes! Jim's attacker. It would be _his_ fault… for attacking him," Pam agreed, nodding her head convincingly.

Michael pondered this for a few moments, and finally conceded, "Yes! Yes it would be… That is brilliant. I am going to tell the people that the head they want is not yours, it's this Roy character's—"

"Michael—"

"I'll say to them, 'No need for consternation! If you want someone to blame, blame the man who can't keep his passion under control… or his drinking, apparently—'"

"Michael," Jim said again, this time with clear aggravation in his voice.

"And then I will lead the way to run that em-effer outta town! Just like in _Beauty and the Beast_!"

Jim's anger quickly subsided as he realized Michael was making a poor comparison to a Disney cartoon, and he couldn't help but chuckle. He then shot a glance over at Pam, who looked like she was doing the same thing.

"Michael," he said for a third time, much more composed. "My parents have already contacted my lawyer about a restraining order. You don't need to go hunt down Roy."

"But… you don't want to see your attacker brought to justice?" Michael inquired, a note of disappointment in his tone. Jim shook his head as much as his mobility let him, and Michael let out a heavy sigh, "Fine. Have it your way Jim-bag."

"They doctors did say that he'll probably be out in time to go to games three and four in L.A.," Pam spoke up, trying to get Michael to see things optimistically.

Michael scoffed, "Yeah, like his luck will be able to stand up against all the celebrities that go to those L.A. games. I mean, Jack Nicholson will be there! _Jack Nicholson_, Pam! Really." The room settled into an awkward silence, the couple exchanging an uneasy glance while Michael processed the predicament he assumed they were in. Then, as if a light switch was turned on inside his brain, Michael snapped his fingers and told them, "I have an idea."

"Oh really?" Jim smirked, knowing whatever he had come up with would be good.

"I know Willie Green said something about miss Pama-lama-ding-dong over here being good luck as well," he explained. "So, if we want to double our luck, we can dress little Pammy here up as a hot nurse—"

"_No_," they both vetoed his scheme in unison, not needing to hear any more.

Michael threw his hands up in the air and sighed, "Fine. I was trying to be helpful and help you smuggle your little girlfriend along for the trip, but if you don't want my help then I will just go where my services are needed… probably to elevate Jan's swollen cankles." He left the room in a flourish, and then reappeared in the doorway, "Seriously though, last chance. My plan is foolproof."

"Not interested," Jim shook his head.

"Fine. Feel better man," Michael gave a small wave and disappeared down the hallway. Once he was completely out of sight, Pam flopped down in the chair she had been sitting in before Michael had arrived.

"Wow," she sighed as she rubbed her forehead. "And I thought Ryan was bad…"

"Yeah…" Jim almost laughed at the thought of all Michael's antics. "My boss is a whole different kind of inappropriate." They exchanged a smile and entwined their fingers in each other, and finally Jim said softly, "Thanks."

"Welcome," she responded, knowing nothing more needed to be said between them. Whatever hand she had played in his injury, she knew she had made it up to him by sticking by his side.

… … …

"Are you _really_ going to watch the game?" Jim asked as they walked out the back door of the rowhouse, his bags packed for L.A. in hand.

"Of course! I mean, I might have it on in the background or something, but I'll definitely be watching for you," Pam replied, smiling at him as she helped him put the bags in his car.

"That's all I ask."

"Do you have your plane tickets?"

"Yep."

"Meds and extra bandages?"

"Uh huh."

"Cell phone charger?"

"Yes _mom_," Jim said with a grin, to which he got a playful smack on the arm. "Oh, so violent, Beesly!" he teased.

"I hate you," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She began to pull away when his hands caught her cheeks and pulled her in for a real kiss, which melted her into him. She let out a wistful sigh as they parted, and then asked longingly, "Call me when you get there?"

"Of course." He got into his car, careful to mind his still bruised rib, and waved as he pulled out of the parking lot. Pam watched until his car was out of sight, and then wandered back inside the building, noticing how quiet the third floor was without him there.

* * *

_Hope that didn't go too fast for anyone. Like I said, the more angst I can just gloss over, the better. :D Let me know what you thought!_


	12. Cause for Celebration

_A/N: Oh my gosh you guys, has it really been a month since I last updated?? That is awful. I am so sorry I made you (those of you who are faithfully still reading) wait so long for this chapter; school started and work started piling up, and I know that's not really a good excuse. But the good news is that we'll get to wrap this whole thing up now._

__

Yep, this is that last chapter! I was originally going to have there be more, but I just don't have as much time to write, and I hate making you guys wait so long for updates. Better to wrap it up now I think. And what a conclusion it is you guys! EmilyHalpert has been so encouraging with this ending, so I feel very confident posting it. She is truly the best beta a girl could hope for.

_Please remember to read, review, and enjoy!_

* * *

Time raced by so quickly that being in L.A. seemed like one big blur. Jim flew in the afternoon of game three, along with Todd Packer and the rest of the team. They checked in to their hotel—thankfully, Jim wasn't rooming with Packer—and were immediately shuttled off to the Staples Center for the game. The team barely had enough time to warm up, but they were confident that they would do well as long as they all got a high five from their personal good-luck charm.

Jim was escorted to his seat by a friendly, yet arrogant attendant, who told him he'd need a _lot_ of luck to help the Sixers win. He shrugged off the comment, knowing where the attendant's loyalties lied, and thanked him for showing him to his seat. The attendant gave him a curt nod in response, an air of superiority in his demeanor, and was on his way. Needing to stretch his legs from being on a plane all day, Jim was out of his seat as soon as the attendant was out of sight.

He made a lap around the arena, watching families in line at the concession stand and occasionally moving out of the way for large men with beers in their hands. He was recognized by a few Sixers fans, which helped him to feel more at home, but mostly he just felt alone in a sea of unfamiliar and unfriendly faces.

He almost wished he had listened to Michael's harebrained scheme to bring Pam along. It certainly would've been nicer having her there to talk to, or even just to be there to people-watch with him; it was one of their favorite pastimes on their terrace. Jim had seemed to learn all kinds of new things about her with every comment she'd make about the people passing by on the street below.

He had learned that her family had owned a dog with one eye named Titan when she was little, that her favorite flavor of ice cream was rocky road, and she eventually wanted to move out to the suburbs to raise a family, but still wanted a house with a terrace to look out from at night. That detail was especially vivid to him, because even though he had never thought about having a house with that feature before, he felt like he could see himself wanting it because it was in her fantasy.

After circling the stadium a couple times, Jim ended up walking into the staging area, wanting to see how the players were doing. Instead, he ran into a mob of Laker Girls about to take to the court. He swiftly moved out of the way for them, embarrassedly averting his eyes as they passed, until he heard one call his name:

"Jim?"

"…Katy?"

"Oh my gosh, how good to see you!" she threw her arms around the startled sports writer and gave him a tight hug. All Jim could do was blush. "How have you been? I heard about your rise to fame."

"Yeah…" he rubbed the back of his neck, sick of rehashing his stardom with acquaintances, so he quickly diverted the conversation off of himself. "How about you? I didn't know you were a Laker Girl…"

She beamed at him, "Yep! It is a dream come true."

"I'm glad," he smiled genuinely at her, pleased to hear that she was happy.

"So, hey, you're going to be here a couple days, wanna get a bite to eat sometime? Maybe tomorrow?"

He winced a little, remembering how dinner with his last ex had went, but he could tell by the look in Katy's eyes that she wanted nothing more than to catch up. "Sure," re replied, and her friendly smile grew wider.

"Great!" she cheered. "I don't have my cell on me, but do you just want my number?"

"Uh, sure," he said, getting out his cell phone and punching in the digits to her number as she recited them.

"I gotta get going," she told him. "But just gimme a call tomorrow and we'll meet somewhere. See ya later Jim, and good luck tonight!"

She gave him a small wave and ran off toward the stadium as Jim looked back down at his phone. He knew the game would be starting soon, but he had enough time for a phone call. He pressed two on his speed dial and sat down on a nearby bench.

"Hey stranger," the voice on the other line greeted him. "I'm just sitting down to watch the game. I have a bowl of popcorn and everything."

"Do you have a beer? Because you can't watch sports without drinking beer. It's a rule," he joked.

"I think I have a Leinie in the fridge…" He heard Pam get up and walk across the floor and felt his heart wrench. He wished with everything he had that he could just be there watching the game with her instead of stuck here in L.A., but he knew he had to make some sacrifices for his job. At least she was able to go to all the home games with him. "Oh yes," she said, "Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat—"

Jim shuddered, "Ugh. You have awful tastes in beers, Beesly. That stuff tastes like Fruity Pebbles."

"Well I like it," she told him defiantly. He could picture her sticking her tongue out at him, and it made him chuckle to himself. "Besides, not everyone enjoys dark beers like you."

"Oh so true," he leaned back on the bench, enjoying that they could keep up the easy conversation over the phone thousands of miles away from each other.

"So how are things there? Todd Packer driving you crazy already?"

He shrugged, "He's alright I guess. I certainly don't plan on hanging around him the whole time I'm here."

"Good call."

"Yeah… Um, I actually, randomly, ran into an ex-girlfriend of mine though. She wants to go out with me to eat or something…"

"Oh," Pam said, and then the line fell silent. "Well that's… fun…"

"Oh, no, I mean—it's completely platonic. I just haven't seen her in years, and we were completely wrong for each other anyway, so there's no need to worry. At all."

"Okay…" Pam replied, her tone apprehensive. "Sure."

"I mean it," he told her, adamant. "Hey. I mean—you know you're like… the only woman I'd ever want to be with, right?" He could hear her stifling a self-conscious laugh on the other end of the line, and decided to bring out her laughter even more, "Really, I'm serious. I don't know why you're laughing when I'm just trying to tell you my feelings. I mean, that's pretty insensitive, Pam."

Once she had regained control of her giggles, she told him, "No, I mean—I know, I know, this is serious. It's just—no one's ever said anything like that to me before. It's a little…"

"Scary?"

"Kinda!" she told him through a fresh batch of laughs. "Is that weird?"

"No… not weird. That's the first time I've said that to anyone, so…"

"Really?" she asked, her laughter suddenly subsiding.

This time it was his turn to chuckle nervously, "Well… yeah. But, I have a good feeling about it."

"And if I should trust anyone about good feelings, it's a good luck charm."

"Absolutely," he told her, a stupid grin plastered to his face. "Hey, I have to go, but enjoy the game and your disgusting beer."

"Oh I will," she replied. "Love you. Bye!"

"Love you too—" he said softly into the phone, the line now silent on the other end, as a comforting warmth bubbled up inside him. He shut the phone and sat there for a long moment, replaying their conversation over in his mind.

Although they had said 'I love you' before, this was the first time she had used it while saying goodbye. And the way she said it, so casually as she hung up, took him completely by surprise. He never expected that one simple action could make him so happy.

An announcer over the loudspeakers reminded him how late it was getting, and so he quickly made his way back to his seat next to Todd Packer and a couple other businessmen. Not even they could spoil his good mood though, no matter how much they berated him. And as the Sixers took the court, he made sure to pass out especially enthusiastic high-fives, his mood noticeably happier.

They won that night by a landslide.

… … …

"So you're a home wrecker," Katy giggled as they walked along the streets of L.A., enjoying a pair of frozen yogurts.

"Essentially," he admitted and gave a small shrug. They had been talking about Pam for the last half hour, since he had met Katy at the frozen yogurt shop. He wanted to make sure she knew he was unavailable, and just as he predicted, she couldn't have been happier for him. "I don't know though. It didn't seem like she was too happy with her boyfriend though. By the end, the two of us were spending more time together than they did."

"Maybe that's because you lived across the hall from each other," she speculated, taking a large bite of her yogurt.

Jim shrugged again, "Maybe. But I feel like… regardless of if we were neighbors, or friends of friends, or coworkers, I would've still… Something about her would've still… I don't know."

"Kismet," Katy responded, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah."

"Well I think that's great. I mean, I know I was certainly not the best girlfriend, so I'm glad you found someone who makes you so happy," she told him with a sincere smile, and then pointed to a small shop. "This is the place! The boys get their championship rings done here."

"So what you're telling me is, it's expensive," he said with a smirk.

"Yes. But it'll be totally worth it," she replied, giving him a friendly push into the store. "She won't suspect a thing."

… … …

In game five, back home in Philly, the Sixers won the championship, and the whole city took part in the revelry afterward. As soon as the timer buzzed, the entire court was swallowed in a sea of fans and press, and it seemed as though all of them wanted to talk to Jim. It was overwhelming, considering he felt like he hadn't done anything and was also part of the press himself, but he accepted the attention in stride and politely answered questions.

"Jim, how does it feel to have helped the Sixers win their first championship in twenty-five years?"

"Uh, it feels good. It really was the players that did all the work, but I'm just glad I could help motivate them."

"Jim! Are you looking to get a permanent position with Comcast-Spectacor?"

"Um, I don't think so. I really enjoy writing, so I'm going to stick with that."

"Do you know if your columns are going to be nationally syndicated now?"

"Not sure, really. I hope maybe one day, but for now I'm happy writing about my favorite teams. And baseball season is just heating up, so you can expect to see me there."

"Jim, what are you going to do now?"

"Uh, I'm looking to make some pretty big long-term plans in my personal life at the moment, so I'm going to maybe put sports on the back-burner for a bit while I… do that."

"Thanks Jim. Congratulations again!"

"Thanks guys."

With a small wave, he made his way out of the sea of people and out the doors of the VIP exit, where he had told Pam to wait for him. Just as they had planned, she was there with a big smile on her face.

"You escaped the mob, huh?" she asked as they linked arms.

"I thought I'd never get out of there," he smiled at her as they made their way to his car.

"So Jim, just one more question," she said as she held an imaginary microphone to his face.

He chuckled to her, "What's that?"

"How are you going to spend the rest of the evening?"

"Oh, I was thinking about a quiet celebration with my girlfriend out on our terrace. Maybe think up a plan to annoy our super…"

"Sounds like a good plan," she told him, her smile beaming as she got into the car.

"I thought so," he agreed, buckling himself in and pulling out of the lot.

… … …

Pam couldn't believe how calm Jim was being as they sat outside on the terrace that night, watching the celebration all around them in the streets. Even she had eventually bought into the good luck hype, and was definitely feeling the same electric excitement the fans seemed to have. But something about his disposition made her think that he was feeling almost detached from the commotion, lost in thought.

"So, I was thinking about our apartments," he said out of the blue.

She looked over at him thoughtfully, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean… we're pretty serious now, right?"

"Right," she told him with an ecstatic grin.

"So I was thinking, that since we're 'pretty serious,' we should be taking some more… _serious_ steps in our relationship, you know?"

"Okay…" she said curiously.

"I was thinking about seeing if Dwight could make the third floor a penthouse suite," he told her matter-of-factly, to which he received a swat on the arm.

"Yeah right!" she told him trough fits of laughter.

Jim smiled at her, "You're right, he'd never go for that. But… you have to agree that it's silly for both of us to be paying rent when we basically live at each other's places anyway. So maybe… instead of a penthouse, we could just move in together?"

"Oh," she said, taken aback by his suggestion. She had of course thought about their future. She had even started to daydream about making long-term plans with him, but she just didn't think he'd be the one to bring it up first. Then again, he had always been the one to lead their relationship forward.

"Or maybe it's too soon for that," he said, brushing off his idea. "Forget I even said it. I know how much you love your own apartment and your independence…"

"Oh, no! No," she quickly corrected him. "I mean, yeah, I love those things, but I also… you know… love _you_, and I guess I've been thinking the same thing."

His lips formed a delighted smirk, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, although… I don't know. I wouldn't feel right about it unless…"

"Unless…"

"Unless the two of us were engaged," she finished quickly and almost embarrassedly.

"Oh," Jim sat back in his chair and watched a couple of drunken men sing 'We Are The Champions' at the tops of their lungs down on the street below. "Well… that's good to know I guess." He smiled at her and got up from his chair, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

He shrugged, "It's getting cold. I was gonna grab a blanket or something…"

"Oh, we can go in," she stood quickly, feeling awkward for having brought up the subject of marriage at all. She should've known it would be too soon to discuss it, especially since he was only talking about moving in together. But she did feel pride in sticking to her morals, which helped redeem her self-confidence a bit. "It is getting cold out here," she added with a smile.

"Hey, how about we eat breakfast out here tomorrow?" Jim suggested. "I'll make pancakes."

"Sounds like a plan," she replied as he held the door open for her. "So does that mean we're sleeping in the apartment with the griddle?"

"Hey, if you would like to learn how to cook one of these days, you are more than welcome," he retorted with a smile, unlocking his apartment door and seeing her inside.

… … …

The next morning, Pam woke up to find Jim's side of the bed curiously empty, but she could tell by the sweet smells coming from the kitchen that he was already up and making pancakes. Unable to conceal a wide smile, she made herself decent and left the bedroom, but was surprised when she didn't see him standing in the kitchen making breakfast.

"Jim?"

All the answer she received in return was the creek of a loose floorboard.

"Jim?" she asked again, this time a little more anxious, but again there was no reply. Then she saw on the counter that he had left a note for her:

_Went out for orange juice. Go ahead and head out to the terrace. Your breakfast is waiting for you._

She smiled slightly, wondering what kind of elaborate setup he had prepared for her outside, so she didn't make any haste in getting herself out to the terrace. Sure enough, there was a place of pancakes piled high and covered with a dishtowel to keep them warm. She approached the plate, her smile bright, and pulled the towel off the plate. Then she gasped.

Tucked onto the plate was a small velvet box, and inside it, a ring.

"So?" she heard him ask from the doorway to the terrace, and when she turned to see him standing there grinning at her, she couldn't believe how big she was smiling.

"Yes," she nodded, and leapt into his arms.

… … …

"Dwight, you're really going to just stand there and watch?" Jim asked as he and Pam moved boxes from Pam's apartment into Jim's.

"I'm not watching, Jim. I'm supervising. Part of a _super_intendent's duty."

"Fair enough," Jim said with a shrug as he pushed a large box across the hall.

Dwight peaked his head into Pam's now empty apartment, "Pam? I need to perform a formal inspection. I'm entering the premises."

"Okay!" she yelled from the bedroom. "Just move boxes out of the way if you have to. But be careful of the ones in the kitchen marked 'heavy'."

Dwight scoffed as he got out his checklist, "Probably heavy for a woman. Your kind has notoriously weak arms."

Jim stopped what he was doing for a moment at the front door to curiously watch what was about to unfold, and was immediately joined by his fiancée, who handed him a stack of books. They stood and watched Dwight examine the biggest of the boxes marked 'heavy', and then position himself under the box to get the best leverage.

Neither could contain their laughter when they saw the empty box hit Dwight square in the face with a loud _thwack_, and had to look away as he toppled over himself, and all the other empty boxes marked 'heavy'. As the couple exchanged an amused glance, they both could tell this was only the beginning of a lifetime of laughter to come.

* * *

_First and foremost, the biggest and most appreciative thank you to my chapter by chapter reviewers: Bears Eat Beets, MrsBigTuna, Elly10, JB, Star1086, lulupanda, Aivilo, LoveMeSomeJAM, bingbangboom714, tophetangel, XALLOWspuffyBuFf, henantz, Underjoggle, Cotton Candy Ass, longtallsally, CamellaBones2747, LittleWords, ILove2Run, onetreefan, Jm-b, Abyssion, minted-violets, maddikinz940, Sara, Dizzy The Magical Fpoon, iheartstanley, staringdownthesun, JAMonMyToast, and MainlyMaddison!! Oh my gosh, that is a lot of reviewers!! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story!! I feel like a bit of a rock star. ;)_

_Next, a preview of what's to come: nothing epic, actually. School is taking up a lot of my time (as you all well know), so I'll probably just continue to do oneshots and such unless inspiration strikes. But I do have a fun, smaller multi-chapter fic in the works. I'm not posting it until it's all done (to keep you all from waiting an insanely long time in between updates), but trust me, it'll be cute._

_And lastly, I leave you all with my customary goodbye, "peace and joy be with you, harmony and wisdom." Later skaters!_


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